


Mute By Choice: The Chamber of Secrets

by AvyJC15



Series: Mute By Choice [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Best Friends, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, F/M, Fluff, Foreshadowing, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Possession, shifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2019-06-20 12:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 96,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15534255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvyJC15/pseuds/AvyJC15
Summary: (Book II of the Mute By Choice Series)Delilah Keren Aleah Hawkins' comes back for her second year at Hogwarts. She is relieved she didn't lose her job as her best friend's, Harry Potter, Curatoria. But after a few disappearances here and there, the curiosity and fear for others consume her. When it comes to her physical and psychological changes... will that give away what she is? What do these changes mean?Spending most of her time protecting her three best friends, she speaks up a bit here and there, but will she finally be able to open up to these three children this year, or will she stay her same reserved muted self?With these new year's events, will anyone finally find out who and... what she really is?Still catching Harry Potter's eye, will she finally feel the same as he feels? Will she finally change?





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> **ATTENTION** I DO NOT OWN ANY OF J.K. ROWLING'S ORIGINAL CHARACTERS FROM THE ORIGINAL HARRY POTTER. I ONLY OWN DELILAH, HER FAMILY, THE KIDS FROM THE ORPHANAGE, THE ADAMS, AND SOME OTHERS I MIGHT CREATE FURTHER ON.

_One must always sacrifice them self._

_Though it is not a sacrifice if you love what you are doing._

_If you choose to do something, then you should not call it a sacrifice,_

_Because it was nothing but a willing gesture towards someone... you love..._


	2. Home

After a quite eventful first year at Hogwarts, I spent the rest of June and most of July going back and forth between home and school. I was surprised when I didn't get fired from my job as Harry's  _Curatoria_.

Home. That is where I spent most of my time of course, though I went to Hogwarts every now and then to practice my magic privately with grandpa D. and Snape. It was hard to control myself at first because as soon as I brought down the walls containing my magic deep within me, I pretty much went out of control. I couldn't touch or think of anything without destroying it. And other than that, Voldemort found a way to keep haunting me in my sleep every thrice every week. I had to learn how to control them as well so he wouldn't take over me.

So I locked myself up for three entire weeks in a special chamber to tame my powers. A house elf would Apparate now and then to bring me food, but nothing really improved in that department... and I still didn't talk either. I said a few words here and there, but other than that, I never spoke.

The other half of July, I decided to visit a little bit more of my home country, America, though I didn't go back to Battle Ax Creek's forest. For one, it was because I didn't feel ready to face the place where my life had been hell. I wouldn't be able to bare it. For two, I had been lost in there, so I didn't want to risk getting lost again and end up with the Adams. I had no intention in seeing them again. If a time comes when I see them again, that time would be when I wouldn't be hovered over by pain. When I wouldn't be so weak and vulnerable... when I'd be strong like my family always wanted me to be.  

I apparated into the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State and settled down between Dowan Creek and May Creek in the Cedar Creek cabin which I evidently found out was occupied by a pack of original shifters. I was afraid they would despise me like most werewolves despise my kind, but I was wrong. They were more than interested to know that soul shifters were still of existence— me being the last one— and how I was able to enter a pack mind link without having my head explode. They were more surprised than I was when I had  _thought_ to them that I was the last descendant of the best alphas of all history including werewolves, shifters and of course soul shifters... and others like skin walkers....

I was tracked down and found by some of Voldemort's death eaters and was attacked multiple times, mostly by the Unforgivable Curses. I was touched many times by the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse— the Imperius Curse too, but I was hit less by that one since I was more mentally prepared for that one and was able to reverse the curse onto the attacker.

I stayed there till the end of the first week of August and helped in a few battles and even— freaked them out when Atlas suddenly appeared with my letter for Hogwarts. They had asked me more questions about myself and my life, but just as I had once told someone, I replied through the pack link,

" _Ask me no questions and I will answer no lies_."

Once the second week of August came around, I apparated back to my small-yet-big-for-one-person cottage.

The moment I opened the door, I was hit on the head by something which obviously resulted in me falling down. I sat up and looked for the source of my fall and saw the entrance packed with letters. With a flick of my finger, they all appeared in my room and I sighed in relief of being released from all of that and got up, making my way towards the kitchen.

Just as I was walking down the corridor, something big caught my eye, near the entrance. How come I didn't notice that? Narrowing my eyes curiously, I made my way back and squatted down beside the box. There was a letter on top of the lid.

I ripped the letter open and read:

_Dear Delilah,_

_I'm not sure if you will receive this package, but from all the time you kept comparing me to a puppy even though I'm about twice your age, I couldn't help but think of you when I found this. I really do hope you get it. Abby, put in a couple of extra things to help with the gift._

_I know it's way too early to say this too— five months early— but Happy Birthday!_

_By the way, thanks again for helping out the pack, hope everything's fine with you. Ring us anytime you need something, anything._

_Love,_

_Alpha Brian_

I couldn't help but smile at the letter. They really know how to make me smile... I still can't wait till I have my own pack. I do hope I get one. Eyeing the box curiously, I put the letter aside and lifted the lid. My mouth dropped open and my eyes widened in shock at what I saw.

A baby husky was in there sleeping peacefully. It was pure white with black-grayish spots. It opened its eyes and yawned staring back at me with big blue eyes.

"Atlas!" I squealed, surprising myself by my voice, again. I'm still not used to it since I don't really talk yet. Atlas flew in and landed on my shoulder. "Look! Brian got me a baby husky. Is he not cute?" Atlas squawked in agreement admiring the new addition to our company. The husky seemed to just have acknowledged Atlas' presence and frowned, a very cute little growl emerging from his throat.

"Wow, you sure are a feisty little mongrel." I chuckled. The husky then looked at me and snarled, but with a softer expression. "I think I am going to call you... Snarly?" He growled and I laughed as Atlas went to his perch. "Okay, alright. How about... Thunder? I mean I have only just met you, but you sure seem to like growling a lot," I teased, and the little creature yipped happily. I smile, picked him up and kissed his forehead. I got up and carried him to the kitchen with Atlas flying behind.

I set Thunder down and turned to face both of my fellow companions. "I guess you are both very hungry, so how about I make us some good meatloaf with some grains and vegetables, huh?" I asked as both responded with a squawk and a bark. Smiling, I flicked my finger made some toys appear for Thunder and a big silky cushion for Atlas to rest on. I was expecting Thunder to play with his toys, but instead, he joined Atlas on his cushion and rested beside him, making me smile. I see they already consider each other as brothers.

We all three had just settled in the living room in front of the television I was finally discovering when suddenly, something crashed against the window. I opened it and just as I did something big that looked like a moulting grey feather duster fell in. I raised an eyebrow and bent down to pick it up only to see it was a middle owl, which was large and gray, and it was now... unconscious.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I picked it up and layed it down on a cushion from the sofa then grabbed the letter it had between its talons. Must have been sent yesterday or before that if it was brought by an owl.

I ripped the letter open and read:

_Dear Deli,_

_Why haven't you written back?_

_Hermione said she sent you letters as well, but you didn't answer her either. I hope everything is alright with you. I'm not sure if you will receive this letter, but either way, I'm sorry if Errol makes a mess at landing._

_Anyway, you will never believe what Fred, George and I did. We rescued Harry on his birthday from his aunt and uncle. I thought it was  a brilliant idea, don't you? The only problem was that mum found out about it and gave us a mouth full of it; how irresponsible it was and all that jibber jabber—_   _we didn't get home as soon as we hoped. Other than that, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to come and meet us in Diagon Alley to get our books._

_Anyway, try to come,_

_Ron_

_P.S. My little sister, Ginny, won't shut up about you._

I had to laugh at that, I simply had to. I sat down on the sofa beside the owl whom I guessed was Errol and sighed. Flicking my finger a bowl of water and another one with seeds and bread crumbs appeared beside the owl who had just woken up and helped himself to a bit of both. I flicked my finger again and a white sheet of paper, a brand new envelope and a pen appeared on my lap. I knew that the Weasleys grew up with only parchment, feathers and ink in bottles, but a little change wouldn't hurt them.

I narrowed my eyes before writing down my letter. Once I was done, I put in the envelope, flicked my finger and made two new watches, some walky-talkies and a radio appear and wrapped them up before putting them into a small gift bag I got back at Cedar Creek cabin. I also put in a whole pack of white sheets of paper along with a pack of twenty pens. I gave the whole lot to Errol and instructed Atlas to take him.

I think I fell asleep afterwards on the couch with Thunder in my arms...

**Harry's P.O.V.**

I lay on my bed watching the sun sinking behind the bars on the window and wondered miserably what was going to happen to me.

What was the good of magicking myself out of my room if Hogwarts would expel me for doing it? Yet life at Privet Drive had reached an all-time low. Now that the Dursleys knew they weren’t going to wake up as fruit bats, I had lost my only weapon. Dobby might have saved me from horrible happenings at Hogwarts, but the way things were going, I'd probably starve to death anyway.  

The cat-flap rattled and Aunt Petunias hand appeared, pushing a bowl of canned soup into the room. I jumped off my bed and seized it as my insides were aching with hunger. The soup was stone-cold, but I drank half of it in one gulp. Then I crossed the room to Hedwig’s cage and tipped the soggy vegetables at the bottom of the bowl into her empty food tray. She ruffled her feathers and gave me a look of deep disgust.

"It’s no good turning your beak up at it— that’s all we’ve got," I said grimly.

I put the empty bowl back on the floor next to the cat-flap and lay back down on the bed, somehow even hungrier than I had been before the soup. Supposing I was still alive in another four weeks, what would happen if I didn’t turn up at Hogwarts? Would someone be sent to see why I hadn’t come back? Would they be able to make the Dursleys let me go? I don't know why, but I have a feeling that if Delilah knew what was going on, she would be the first to come. She would probably even throw in a punch or two at them and give them her famous adorable glare.

The room was growing dark. Exhausted, stomach rumbling, mind spinning over the same unanswerable questions, I fell into an uneasy sleep. I dreamed that I was on show in a zoo, with a card reading UNDERAGE WIZARD attached to my cage. People goggled through the bars at me as I lay, starving and weak, on a bed of straw.

I saw Dobby’s face in the crowd and shouted out, asking for help, but Dobby called, "Harry Potter is safe there, sir!" and vanished. Then the Dursleys appeared and Dudley rattled the bars of the cage, laughing at me.

I opened my eyes. Moonlight was shining through the bars on the window. And someone was goggling through the bars at me: a freckle-faced, red-haired, long-nosed someone.        

Ron Weasley was outside my window.      

"Ron," I breathed, creeping to the window and pushing it up so we could talk through the bars. "Ron, how did you—? What the—?"  

My mouth fell open as the full impact of what I was seeing hit me. Ron was leaning out of the back window of an old turquoise car, which was parked in midair. Grinning at me from the front seats were Fred and George, Ron’s elder twin brothers.  

"All right, Harry?" asked George.        

"What’s been going on?" said Ron. "Why haven’t you been answering my letters? Not that your the only one, but I’ve asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you’d got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles—"        

"It wasn’t me— and how did he know?"       

"He works for the Ministry," said Ron. "You know we’re not supposed to do spells outside school —"        

"You should talk," I said, staring at the floating car.        

"Oh, this doesn’t count," said Ron.

"We’re only borrowing this. It’s Dad’s, we didn’t enchant it. But doing magic in front of those Muggles you live with —"        

"I told you, I didn’t— but it’ll take too long to explain now— look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won’t let me come back, and obviously I can’t magic myself out, because the Ministry’ll think that’s the second spell I’ve done in three days, so—"       

"Stop gibbering," said Ron. "We’ve come to take you home with us."        

"But you can’t magic me out either—"        

"We don’t need to," said Ron, jerking his head toward the front seat and grinning. "You forget who I’ve got with me."        

"Tie that around the bars," said Fred, throwing the end of a rope to me.        

"If the Dursleys wake up, I’m dead," I said as I tied the rope tightly around a bar and Fred revved up the car.        

"Don’t worry," said Fred, "and stand back."

I moved back into the shadows next to Hedwig, who seemed to have realized how important this was and kept still and silent. The car revved louder and louder and suddenly, with a crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean out of the window as Fred drove straight up in the air.

I ran back to the window to see the bars dangling a few feet above the ground. Panting, Ron hoisted them up into the car. I listened anxiously, but there was no sound from the Dursleys’ bedroom.        

When the bars were safely in the back seat with Ron, Fred reversed as close as possible to my window.        

"Get in," Ron said.        

"But all my Hogwarts stuff— my wand— my broomstick—"       

"Where is it?"        

"Locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and I can’t get out of this room—"        

"No problem," said George from the front passenger seat.

"Out of the way, Harry." The twins climbed catlike through the window into my room. George took an ordinary hairpin from his pocket and started to pick the lock.        

"A lot of wizards think it’s a waste of time, knowing this sort of Muggle trick," said Fred, "but we feel they’re skills worth learning, even if they are a bit slow."        

There was a small click and the door swung open.        

"So— we’ll get your trunk— you grab anything you need from your room and hand it out to Ron," whispered George.        

"Watch out for the bottom stair— it creaks," I whispered back as the twins disappeared onto the dark landing.        

I dashed around my room, collecting my things and passing them out of the window to Ron. Then I went to help Fred and George heave my trunk up the stairs. I heard Uncle Vernon cough.        

At last, panting, we reached the landing, then carried the trunk through my room to the open window. Fred climbed back into the car to pull with Ron, as George and I pushed from the bedroom side. Inch by inch, the trunk slid through the window. Uncle Vernon coughed again.        

"A bit more," panted Fred, who was pulling from inside the car. "One good push—"

George and I threw our shoulders against the trunk and it slid out of the window into the back seat of the car.

"Okay, let’s go," George whispered. But as I climbed onto the windowsill there came a sudden loud screech from behind me, followed immediately by the thunder of Uncle Vernon’s voice.        

"THAT RUDDY OWL!"        

"I’ve forgotten Hedwig!"

I tore back across the room as the landing light clicked on— I snatched up Hedwig’s cage, dashed to the window, and passed it out to Ron. I was scrambling back onto the chest of drawers when Uncle Vernon hammered on the unlocked door— and it crashed open.

For a split second, Uncle Vernon just stood framed in the doorway; then he let out a bellow like an angry bull and dived at me, grabbing me by the ankle.        

Ron, Fred, and George seized my arms and pulled as hard as they could.        

"Petunia!" roared Uncle Vernon. "He’s getting away! HE’S GETTING AWAY!"        

But the Weasleys gave a gigantic tug and my leg slid out of Uncle Vernon’s grasp— I was in the car— I'd slammed the door shut—        

"Put your foot down, Fred!" yelled Ron, and the car shot suddenly toward the moon.        

I couldn’t believe it— I was free. I rolled down the window, the night air whipping my hair, and looked back at the shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were all hanging, dumbstruck, out of my window.        

"See you next summer!" I yelled.        

The Weasleys roared with laughter and I settled back in my seat, grinning from ear to ear.        

"Let Hedwig out," I told Ron. "She can fly behind us. She hasn’t had a chance to stretch her wings for ages."        

George handed the hairpin to Ron and, a moment later, Hedwig soared joyfully out of the window to glide alongside them like a ghost.        

"So— what’s the story, Harry?" said Ron impatiently. "What’s been happening?"        

I told them all about Dobby, the warning he’d given me and the fiasco of the violet pudding. There was a long, shocked silence when I had finished.  

"Very fishy," said Fred finally.

"Definitely dodgy," agreed George. "So he wouldn’t even tell you who’s supposed to be plotting all this stuff?"

"I don’t think he could," I said. "I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall." I saw Fred and George look at each other. "What, you think he was lying to me?" I asked.

"Well," said Fred, "put it this way— house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can’t usually use it without their master’s permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone’s idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?"

"Yes," Ron and I said together, instantly.  

"Draco Malfoy," I explained. "He hates me."  

"Draco Malfoy?" said George, turning around. "Not Lucius Malfoy’s son?"

"Must be, it’s not a very common name, is it?" I said.  

"I’ve heard Dad talking about him," said George. "He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who."        

"And when You-Know-Who disappeared," said Fred, craning around to look at me, "Lucius Malfoy came back saying he’d never meant any of it. Load of dung— Dad reckons he was right in You- Know-Who’s inner circle."        

I had heard these rumors about Malfoy’s family before, and they didn’t surprise me at all. Malfoy made Dudley Dursley look like a kind, thoughtful, and sensitive boy…        

"I don’t know whether the Malfoys own a house-elf…" I said.        

"Well, whoever owns him will be an old wizarding family, and they’ll be rich," said Fred.        

"Yeah, Mum’s always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing," said George. "But all we’ve got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden. House-elves come with big old manors and castles and places like that; you wouldn’t catch one in our house…"        

I was silent. Judging by the fact that Draco Malfoy usually had the best of everything, his family was rolling in wizard gold; I could just see Malfoy strutting around a large manor house. Sending the family servant to stop me from going back to Hogwarts also sounded exactly like the sort of thing Malfoy would do.  

The Weasleys' house was interesting. It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic. Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.        

"It’s not much," said Ron. "But it's home."

"I think it's brilliant," I said happily, thinking of Privet Drive.        

We got out of the car.        

"Now, we’ll go upstairs really quietly," said Fred, "and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, ‘Mum, look who turned up in the night!’ and she’ll be all pleased to see Harry and no one need ever know we flew the car."        

"Right," said Ron. "Come on, Harry, I sleep at the— at the top—" Ron had gone a nasty greenish color, his eyes fixed on the house. The twins and I wheeled around.

Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a saber-toothed tiger.        

"Ah," said Fred.        

"Oh, dear," said George.  

Mrs. Weasley came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. She was wearing a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket.

"So," she said.  

"Morning, Mum," said George, in what he probably thought was a jaunty, winning voice.

"Have you any idea how worried I’ve been?" said Mrs. Weasley in a deadly whisper.

"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to—"

All three of Mrs. Weasley’s sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them.        

"Beds empty! No note! Car gone— could have crashed— out of my mind with worry— did you care?— never, as long as I’ve lived— you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy—"        

"Perfect Percy," muttered Fred.        

"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred’s chest. "You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job—"        

It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on me, making me slightly back away.        

"I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear," she said. "Come in and have some breakfast."

She turned and walked back into the house and I, after a nervous glance at Ron, who nodded encouragingly, followed her. The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, and I sat down on the edge of my seat, looking around. I had never been in a wizard house before.  

Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like "don’t know what you were thinking of," and "never would have believed it."  

"I don’t blame you, dear," she assured me, tipping eight or nine sausages onto my plate. "Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really," (she was now adding three fried eggs to my plate) "flying an illegal car halfway across the country— anyone could have seen you—" 

She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background.

"It was cloudy, Mum!" said Fred.

"You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. 

"They were starving him, Mum!" said George.  

"And you!" said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting me bread and buttering it for me.  At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, redheaded figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen.

"Mummy, have you seen my jumper?" then the little girl's gaze flickered to me and her eyes widened.

"Hello," I said politely, but she gave a small squeal, and ran out again.  

"Ginny," said Ron in an undertone to Harry. "My sister. She’s been talking about you and Deli all summer."

"Yeah, she’ll be wanting yours and Lee-lee's autograph, Harry," Fred said with a grin, but he caught his mother’s eye and bent his face over his plate without another word.

"Blimey, I’m tired," yawned Fred, setting down his knife and fork at last. "I think I’ll go to bed and—"        

"You will not," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "It’s your own fault you’ve been up all night. You’re going to de-gnome the garden for me; they’re getting completely out of hand again—"        

"Oh, Mum—"

Just then, the little girl came running back down the stairs, now wearing a jumper. As soon as she reached the last step, she rushed over to me, panting and staring at me with wide brown eyes.

She came up front of me and grabbed me by my shoulders. "Do you know Delilah Keren Aleah Hawkins?!" she shouted, startling me.

I blinked a few times before nodding my head rather quickly, giving myself a whiplash. "Yeah."

She gasped. "Is it true she saved your life last year?" she asked as I nodded. "Is she nice? She seems bloody wicked!"

"Ginny, watch your tongue," Mrs. Weasley warned, but Ginny ignored her.

"The most powerful witch she is! Did you know that? Well of course you did if you're probably her boyfriend—"

"I'm not her boyfriend," I admitted sadly.

"You're not?!" she exclaimed herself, tightening her grip on my shoulders— she has a strong grip. "You should be! You'd be perfect together! You're made for each other— you're soul mates! Anyway, is she smart? I bet she is. What's she like!?" the girl bombarded me with questions, but before I could answer any of them, she squealed and ran back upstairs.

"That's Ginny for you... she's talked now and then about you, but she never shuts up about Dells. Imagine that all summer! It's annoying really," Ron said.

Just then, Ginny came running back down the stairs, again, holding a notebook, a quill and a bottle of ink.

"Ron! You know her?!" she shrieked angrily yet with a hint of excitement in her voice.  

"Ginny... we all know her..." George said slowly.

"WHAT?! WHY THE BLOODY HELL HAVE YOU NEVER TOLD ME OR ANSWERED MY QUESTIONS?!?!" Ginny shouted in disbelief.

"Ginny, watch your language!" Mrs. Weasley said.

"Because you always run away before we can!" Fred exclaimed himself.

"Oh..." Ginny said, blushing to the roots of her hair. "Well... um... Harry? Would you mind answering some of my questions?" she asked me shyly as I shook my head making her beam at me.  

"Not at all," I replied.

She sat down beside me, opened her notebook and ink bottle and got ready. "Is she... as kind and as caring as everyone says she is?" she asked. I nodded.

"She's as kind as they come," Ron muttered.

"Ron, would mind answering too?" she asked. Ron seemed to think about it for a few seconds before shaking his head.  

"Can she do wand less magic?" Ginny asked.

"Dunno," Ron said, shrugging as I nodded.

"I've seen her do it— the night she saved me when I faced Quirrell," I said, slightly blushing at the memory of the kiss we shared right before.

Ginny gasped. "Is it true she acquired a new scar from that night?"

I nodded, remembering where she told me it was. "It's on her right shoulder."

"While the first one is on her neck, right?" Ron and I nodded.

"Is it true she doesn't talk?" she asked, tilting her head to the side curiously.

"Oh, she talks, alright," the twins said at the same time.

"And always so properly," Ron muttered.

"When was the first time you heard her talk?"

We all thought it through. "The first time for us was at the end of our first Quidditch match after she got hit by a Bludger. She had only whispered the word so it doesn't count because we barely heard her," Fred said.

"Right you are, brother," George said. "The first real time she talked in front of us and actually held a conversation with us was in Christmas."

"She even shared her birthday cake with us and kissed our cheeks!" they both exclaimed.

"Birthday cake?" Mrs. Weasley and Ginny asked at the same time.

"Yeah, her birthday is two days after Christmas," I said.

"She kissed your cheeks?" Ginny gasped. We all four nodded as she turned to Ron and I. "When did you hear her talk for the first time?"

Ron and I thought about it again when it suddenly came back to us. "On Halloween, when the troll came into Hogwarts. Harry and I had gone to save Hermione."

"But in the end, Delilah saved us all," I finished.

"It was brilliant! The troll had throw Harry off his back and just as he was going to crash against the wall, Deli came in and shouted a spell that slowed down his landing. Then the nasty thing was headed towards me, but she got in the way and it took her instead. Then the moment it picked her up, she shouted a spell... what was it again."

I rummaged through my head trying to remember. "Oh, right. It was something like 'stupefy'," I said as Ron nodded. The twins and Mrs. Weasley's mouth fell open as they stared at us in shock while Ginny eyes sparkled with excitement.

"She stupefied the troll?!" Fred asked in disbelief.

"But we haven't even learned that spell yet! And we're fourth years now!" George exclaimed himself.

"Well they do say she knows a lot of things without learning them," Mrs. Weasley said, amazed.

Ron laughed. "She did it alright," he said trying to calm down his laughter. "And you will never guess what she said after when McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell came." I grinned and chuckled softly at the memory.

"What did she say?" the twins, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley asked at the same time.

" _I am sorry for breaking your wall_ ," Ron said, still snickering. The twins blinked before bursting into a roar of laughter as Ginny giggled and Mrs. Weasley chuckled, shaking her head.

"I see that girl has been well taught... a bit too well taught... shouldn't apologize when she did something good," Mrs. Weasley murmured.

"Does she stand up for other houses?" Ginny asked. Ron and I nodded.

"Even Slytherins... except for those who are mean. Like Malfoy and his friends. She doesn't like them," I added clenching my fists under the table as I remembered that Malfoy had really dared himself to kiss her.

"So she's dating you, right?" Ginny asked pointing at me. I shook my head slightly blushing as her eyes widened in shock.

"You should ask her out, you'd be perfect together," she said with a nod. "Who are her best friends?"  

"Hermonie, Harry and I," Ron answered.

"Hey! What about us?" the twins said at the same time. I had to fight back a laugh.

"WHAT?! You- and- but— You're best friends with her?!?!" Ginny shouted.

"Yeah. Is that a problem?" Ron shouted.

She quickly shook her head. "Is it true... that she has the rarest eyes?" Ginny asked in a small voice. I grinned at her.

"The strangest most rarest, if that makes any sense," Ron said, scratching the back of his neck. "They're a strange orange pink color, don't really know the name of it," he said, shrugging.

"What does she look like?"

Ron looked at me as if telling me to answer that question.

I smiled dreamily as an image of her popped into my head. "She has a thin face, long legs, pale russet skin, jet black, highlighted with light brown wavy hair that's a little longer than shoulder length and easily falls like long silky curtains, and the rarest orange-pink morning glory-begonian eyes," I said dreamily.

"How the bloody hell does he know her eye color's name?" Ron muttered.

I ignored him. "And we can't forget her two scars that are very much like mine, except larger."

"She sounds beautiful," Ginny murmured, writing it all down in her notebook. "I wonder if her hair is longer or shorter than what you've said, this year," she said thoughtfully.

She closed her notebook and jumped up to her feet excitedly. "I can't wait to meet her! I hope she likes me and becomes my friend."

**Back to Delilah's P.O.V.**

I was having a pretty good time running around, changing from my wolf to my fox then lion, I felt so free yet the only thing that ruined my mood everyday, was the nightmares. About Voldemort and about Christophe, yet somehow I was more scared of the ones I had about Christophe because the memory always hurt me. The memory of the time when I was treated badly. I wish I could control those nightmares about him, but as long as I don't start getting over what happened back then, I will never stop being haunted by him.

As my soul animals, my fur had gotten really long to the point where I could barely see, so I decided to cut my hair that fell all the way past my waist, to a length between my chin and shoulders. It was relieving because I was no longer shaggy, now. I had been hoping there would be a spell or potion to make all of my hurtful scars disappear, but I came up with nothing. I guess I'll have to keep sticking to wearing long sleeves, pants and tights under my uniform's skirts.

Let's just hope that this year there won't be as much trouble as last year, especially with the chamber of secrets that just might open...


	3. At Flourish and Blotts

Life doesn't change in just a week. It usually takes a long while, yet it never did in my case.

Finding my mate a few seconds after just being born; losing my grandparents to a dark wizard after a few months of being alive; learning how to fight, yet always feeling weak and vulnerable even knowing I was going to be the next alpha; being attacked by werewolves; my whole villa burning down into ashes; getting lost in a forest; being captured by a family of werewolves; being literally rapped by a werewolf; being bitten by a werewolf— almost  _marked_ ; getting lost in the same forest, again; being found and put into an orphanage; finding out I'm also a witch; getting harmed through my nightmares; meeting Voldemort in my nightmares; getting my first kiss from one of my best friends; going through hell again with my three best friends; dying and coming back to life.

My life is messed up. Too messed up for a soul shifter. Will it ever change? No. How do I know? I have no idea, but I simply do.

That is why I must always sacrifice myself. Though it is not sacrifice if you love what you are doing. I get hurt and die, but some people are worth dying for. I love giving my life for anyone who've changed me in nothing but good ways. I thought I would never smile, laugh or talk again... I rarely do, but at least I do. And it's thanks to them. That's why I accepted this role. I chose this path. Most people say I'm just doing worthless sacrifices, I personally think that if you choose to do something, then you should not call it a sacrifice because it was nothing but a willing gesture towards that someone you love...

**Harry's P.O.V.**

Life at the Burrow was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive. The Dursleys liked everything neat and ordered; the Weasleys’ house burst with the strange and unexpected. I got a shock the first time I looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it shouted, "Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!"

The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and George’s bedroom were considered perfectly normal. What I found most unusual about life at Ron’s, however, wasn’t the talking mirror or the clanking ghoul: It was the fact that everybody there seemed to like me.

Mrs. Weasley fussed over the state of my socks and tried to force me to eat fourth helpings at every meal. Mr. Weasley liked me to sit next to him at the dinner table so that he could bombard me with questions about life with Muggles, asking me to explain how things like plugs and the postal service worked.        

"Fascinating," he would say as I talked him through using a telephone. "Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic."

I heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after I had arrived at the Burrow. Ron and I went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table.

The moment she saw me, she opened her mouth, and I'm sure she wanted to ask me more questions about Delilah, but she was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley who had offered some toast. Ginny pouted and accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Pretending I hadn’t noticed this, I sat down and took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered me.

"Letters from school," said Mr. Weasley, passing Ron and I identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. "Dumbledore already knows you’re here, Harry— doesn’t miss a trick, that man. You two’ve got them, too," he added, as Fred and George ambled in, still in their pajamas.

For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Mine told me to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King’s Cross station on September first. There was also a list of the new books I'd need for the coming year.  

_SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:_

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2by Miranda Goshawk_

_Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_43 Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart_       

Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at mine.

"You’ve been told to get all Lockhart’s books, too!" he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan— bet it’s a witch."

At this point, Fred caught his mother’s eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.

"That lot won’t come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents. "Lockhart’s books are really expensive..."

"Well, we’ll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, but she looked worried. "I expect we’ll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny’s things secondhand."

"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" I asked Ginny.        

She beamed at me and quickly nodded. She opened her mouth again, surely to ask another question about Delilah, but was soon again interrupted by Ron’s elder brother Percy who had just walked in, looking rather proud of himself. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge along with another badge pinned to his sweater vest.        

"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day."        

He sat down in the only remaining chair but leaped up again almost immediately, as a flame emerged from the seat and there appeared rather familiar creature pulling with his beak something that rather looked like a molting, gray feather duster— at least, that was what I thought it was, until I saw that it was breathing.    

"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy's chair and extracting a letter from under its wing. "Finally— he’s got Hermione’s answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys. Though I wonder why Atlas brought him. Maybe he brought Deli's answer too... but there's only one letter...”

I looked up at the other people in the kitchen and saw them all staring wide eyes and open mouthed at Atlas who had just settled on my shoulder comfortably.        

He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron lay him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic."

Then he ripped open Hermione’s letter and read it out loud:        

“ _Dear Ron, and Harry if you’re there,_

_I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn’t do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I’ve been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl because I think another delivery might finish your one off. I was wondering, have you heard anything new about Deli? I'm starting to get worried..._

_Anyway, I’m very busy with schoolwork, of course_ —"

"How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We’re on vacation!"

"— _and we’re going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don’t we meet in Diagon Alley?"_

_Let me know what’s happening as soon as you can._

_Love from Hermione._ "  

As soon as he finished reading, Atlas flew over to him and drooped another letter along with a bag in front of him before landing back on my shoulder. I fed him a few bread crumbs, remembering Delilah told me he loved them.      

"Hey! Deli wrote back!" Ron exclaimed himself. As soon as those words left his mouth, the twins, Ginny, and I straightened our positions and paid close attention as he ripped the letter open and read:

_"Dear Ron,_

_I am sorry I have not written back to you nor Hermione through the holidays, I have been quite busy. I do not know what else to tell you but..._

_YOU SERIOUSLY MADE UP A POSSIBILITY FOR HARRY TO ESCAPE?!?! How? I hope it was a really cool trip, though I am terribly sorry that you ended up in trouble... I am sure your parents would have found a more decent way to get him out. Anyway, everything is alright with me. I hope you thanked your mom for me for the Christmas present, I really loved the sweater, oh, and Percy! I forgot to thank him for the badge he got me, I really liked it. Did he like my gift? I hope he did._

_I recently learned how to use wand less magic... well I already knew it, but I got better at it. It was hard, but I managed. I even learned how to Apparate and was given an early permission and license by the Ministry of Magic to do so at free will, though Dumbledore said I should not abuse of it and only use it in case of emergencies at the time being. Other than that, I can not wait to see you guys again! I really miss you. And by the way, your owl did not do much of a mess. He almost broke my window— left a small crack— but he is fine. I actually think he is very cute. I fed him if that is okay with you. He is a good owl, though pretty old... I think another delivery might finish him off...  so I will be sending him back with Atlas— sorry if something gets burned... Atlas always 'apparates' in and out leaving fire in the process— he is still working on it, though._

_I would love to meet you in Diagon Alley, it would be good to see you again. Is next Wednesday alright with you? Do you know if Hermione will be there? Anyway, if you did manage to get Harry out, do wish him a very Happy Birthday for me, please. By the way, I have a gift for the two of you, the four other gifts, you can give them to your family— maybe it will interest your dad? I have more things for you and the rest that I want to give at the platform before we head to Hogwarts. Anyway, I hope everything is alright with you too, and see you soon!_

_Love,_

_Delilah_

_P.S. Say hello to your little sister for me, she seems quite adorable. And kiss the twins for me (ha-ha)._ "

Ron, the twins and I burst out laughing, a bit in shock. It's funny how she's more enthusiastic when she writes than when she speaks. The others just stared in shock.

Percy grinned. "She liked the badge!"

Ginny squealed. "She said 'hi' to me— well technically she said 'hello', but still— and she thinks I'm adorable!"

"Ron," Fred said, snickering.

"You're supposed to kiss us," George said. I laughed and practically fell of my chair at that one.

"Oh, shut up!" Ron muttered, curiously eyeing the bag.

"She loved the sweater!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed herself happily.

"What did she get you, two?" Mr. Weasley asked, curiously eyeing the bag as well.

Ron reached inside and brought out two small gifts wrapped up, one with Ron's name taped on it and the other with mine. We unwrapped it and saw she had gotten us twin watched made of gold— the only difference being our names carved in the center. We grinned at each other before putting the watches on. Then we brought the rest of the items out of the bag. There was a radio, some walky-talkies and a pack of white sheets of paper and pens. Mr. Weasley was the first to go at it and study the items with an amazed expression.

"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. "What’re you all up to today?"  

~~*~~

Mrs. Weasley woke us all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, we pulled on our coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.  

Trying hard to bear all this in mind, I took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. I took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and stepped forward; the fire felt like a warm breeze; I opened my mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.  

"D-Dia-gon Alley," I coughed.        

It felt as though I was being sucked down a giant drain. I seemed to be spinning very fast— the roaring in my ears was deafening— I tried to keep my eyes open but the whirl of green flames made me feel sick— something hard knocked my elbow and I tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning— now it felt as though cold hands were slapping my face— squinting through my glasses I saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond— my bacon sandwiches were churning inside me — I closed my eyes again wishing it would stop, and then…  

I fell, face forward, onto cold stone and felt the bridge of my glasses snap.

Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, I got gingerly to my feet, holding my broken glasses up to my eyes. I was quite alone, but where I was, I had no idea. All I could tell was that I was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard’s shop — but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.  

A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street I could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.

The sooner I got out of here, the better. Nose still stinging where it had hit the hearth, I made my way swiftly and silently toward the door, but before I'd got halfway toward it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass— and one of them was the very last person I wanted to meet when I was lost, covered in soot, and wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy. 

I looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to my left; I shot inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop.  The man who followed could only be Draco’s father. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray eyes— probably his dad. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."

Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.

"... everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful 'Potter' with his scar and his broomstick... He even has the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts always by his side—" I was infuriated when he said that. I hate the way he thinks about Delilah, let alone how he still thinks he can have her.

"You have told me this a dozen times already," Mr. Malfoy said, with a quelling look at his son. "And I would remind you that is not— prudent — to appear less fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear and who cares about a girl— Mr. Borgin."  

"I do," Malfoy interjected. "And she's not just any girl. She's Delilah Hawkins," he informed proudly. Mr. Malfoy's face went stone cold.

"What did you say?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and sighed. "I said her name is Delilah Hawkins."

"The girl the Dark Lord is after?"

"The very one."

Mr. Malfoy seemed to be in deep thought before clearing up his throat. "We will continue this discussion at home— ah, Mr. Borgin."

A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face. Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez to his nose and looked down a list Malfoy's dad had given him.

"Can I have that?" interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.        

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy’s list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."      

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Mr. Malfoy coldly.

Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant—"        

"Though if his grades don’t pick up," said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for—"        

"It’s not my fault," retorted Draco. "The teachers all have favorites, Delilah and that friend of hers... Hermione Granger—"        

"I would have thought you’d be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy.        

"Ha!" I said under my breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry.        

"Delilah had a wizarding family," Malfoy's muttered. "Everyone knows that."

"It’s the same all over," said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere—"        

"Not with me," said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.        

"No, sir, nor with me, sir," said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow.        

"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Mr. Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today—"        

They started to haggle. I watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to my hiding place, examining the objects for sale. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman’s rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed— Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date.        

Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward— he stretched out his hand for the handle.

"Done," said Mr. Malfoy at the counter. "Come, Draco—"        

I wiped my forehead on my sleeve as Draco turned away.

The moment the door had closed, Mr. Borgin dropped his oily manner.        

"Good day yourself,  _Mister_  Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven’t sold me half of what’s hidden in your  _manor_ …"      

Muttering darkly, Mr. Borgin disappeared into a back room. I waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as I could, slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases, and out of the shop door.        

Clutching my broken glasses to my face, I stared around. I had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one I'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching me from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling jumpy, I set off, trying to hold my glasses on straight and hoping against hope I'd be able to find a way out of here.        

An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles told me I was in Knockturn Alley. This didn’t help, as I had never heard of such a place. I supposed I hadn’t spoken clearly enough through my mouthful of ashes back in the Weasleys’ fire. Trying to stay calm, I wondered what to do.        

"Not lost are you, my dear?" said a voice in my ear, making me jump.        

An aged witch stood in front of me, holding a tray of what looked horribly like whole human fingernails. She leered at me, showing mossy teeth. I backed away.        

"I’m fine, thanks," I said. "I’m just—"        

"HARRY! What d’yeh think yer doin’ down there?"        

Harry’s heart leapt. So did the witch; a load of fingernails cascaded down over her feet and she cursed as the massive form of Hagrid, the Hogwarts’ gamekeeper, came striding toward them, beetle-black eyes flashing over his great bristling beard.        

"Hagrid!" Harry croaked in relief. "I was lost— Floo powder—"        

Hagrid seized me by the scruff of the neck and pulled me away from the witch, knocking the tray right out of her hands. Her shrieks followed us all the way along the twisting alleyway out into bright sunlight. I saw a familiar, snow-white marble building in the distance— Gringotts Bank. Hagrid had steered me right into Diagon Alley.        

"Yer a mess!" said Hagrid gruffly, brushing soot off me so forcefully he nearly knocked me into a barrel of dragon dung outside an apothecary. "Skulkin’ around Knockturn Alley, I dunno dodgy place, Harry— don’ want no one ter see yeh down there—"

"I realized that," I said, ducking as Hagrid made to brush me off again. "I told you, I was lost— what were you doing down there, anyway?"

"I was lookin’ fer a Flesh-Eatin’ Slug Repellent," growled Hagrid. "They’re ruinin’ the school cabbages. Yer not on yer own?"        

"I’m staying with the Weasleys but we got separated," Harry explained. "I’ve got to go and find them…" We set off together down the street.

"How come yeh never wrote back ter me?" said Hagrid as I jogged alongside him— I had to take three steps to every stride of Hagrid’s enormous boots. I explained all about Dobby and the Dursleys.        

"Lousy Muggles," growled Hagrid. "If I’d’ve known—"        

"Harry! Harry! Over here!"

I looked up and saw Hermione Granger standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet us, her bushy brown hair flying behind her. That was when I realized the most beautiful girl I had been yearning to see was trailing not far behind looking pretty uncomfortable in the crowd.      

"What happened to your glasses? Hello, Hagrid— Oh, it’s wonderful to see you two again— Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"  

"As soon as I’ve found the Weasleys," I said completely distracted by Delilah who seemed to be having a hard time joining us.

"Yeh won’t have long ter wait," Hagrid said with a grin.

"Yeah... wait... um... I'll be right back!" I said not giving them the time to reply as I ran towards Delilah.

"Lilly!" I shouted. Confused, she looked up and her face instantly lit up into a small smile that literally made my heart stop. I ran over to her, threw my arms around her waist, picked her up and spun her around happily as she giggled, hugging me back.

Once I set her back down on her feet, she kissed my cheek softly before looking at me. She narrowed her beautiful orange-pink morning glory-begonian eyes and pursed her lips in an adorable way that just made me want to kiss her. Her smile came back as she shook her head, chuckling softly. That was when I noticed how different and if possible more beautiful she was. She was still very thin and tall— I was now taller than her by an inch or so— her pale russet skin looked paler if that was possible, the light brown highlights were a lighter shade of brown which looked perfect against her jet black wavy hair that was now cut up to a length between her shoulders and chin, though I did not doubt that it will quickly grow back soon. Her orange-pink morning glory-begonian eyes were brighter... happier yet sadder in so many unexplainable ways.

"You seem to have a bad habit of always breaking your glasses, Harry," she murmured, pulling away. She pointed a finger at my glasses and whispered, "Oculus Reparo."

I grinned at her. "So you did learn wand less magic," I said as she nodded, beaming at me.

"Happy birthday, Harry, even if it is a little late," she whispered, hugging me again. I slowly pulled back and took her hand.

"Thanks, Lilly. Come on, Hermione and Hagrid are waiting for us," I said as I pulled her through the crowd making my way back to Hagrid and Hermione who smiled once they say us.

"Deli!" Hermione squealed, hugging the life out of Delilah who seemed to be panicking now.

"Hermione, calm down," I warned. She instantly let go, blushing.

"Sorry," she said in a small voice.

Delilah smiled. "It is alright. I am still having a hard time getting used to it," she murmured. "Hello, Hagrid," she said, looking up at him.

"Hey, there, Deli. How've yer been?"

She smiled brightly at him. "Never been better."

**Back to Delilah's P.O.V.**

"Where are the Weasleys?" I whispered into Harry's ear, making him shiver.

"We're waiting for them," Hermione answered as I nodded.

Harry, Hermione and I looked around: Sprinting up the crowded street were Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and older man who could easily be their father, so he is probably Mr. Weasley.  

"Harry," Mr. Weasley panted. "We hoped you’d only gone one grate too far..." He mopped his glistening bald patch. "Molly’s frantic— she’s coming now—"        

"Deli!" Ron exclaimed himself, hugging me. As soon as I was let go, I was engulfed by two new pairs of arms.

"Lee-lee!" the twins shouted, squeezing the life out of me.

"I missed you too, but please let go," I said in a small voice as they laughed, each kissed a cheek of mine before finally letting go.

"Where did you come out?" Ron asked Harry.        

"Knockturn Alley," said Hagrid grimly as my eyes widened in shock. He shouldn't be there, it's dangerous.        

"Excellent!" said Fred and George together.        

"We’ve never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.        

"I should ruddy well think not," growled Hagrid. Mrs. Weasley now came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, a little girl just clinging onto the other. As soon as the little girl spotted me, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. It was quite adorable.

"Oh, Harry— oh, my dear— you could have been anywhere—"

Gasping for breath, Mrs. Weasley pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn’t managed to beat away.

"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who was having his hand wrung by Mrs. Weasley.

"Knockturn Alley! If you hadn’t found him, Hagrid!"

"See yer at Hogwarts!" And he strode away, head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the packed street.

"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked Ron, Hermione and I as we climbed the Gringotts steps. "Malfoy and his father."

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" said Mr. Weasley sharply behind them.        

"No, he was selling—"        

"So he’s worried," said Mr. Weasley with grim satisfaction. "Oh, I’d love to get Lucius Malfoy for something…"  

"You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley sharply as they were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door. "That family’s trouble. Don’t go biting off more than you can chew—"

"Guys, I will meet at Flourish and Blotts, there is something else I have to do before," I told my friends who nodded in respons

"Still speaking very properly, I see," Ron teased. I rolled my eyes and playfully punched his shoulder before making my way to the pet store to buy more things for Thunder and Atlas.

~~*~~

An hour later, I headed for Flourish and Blotts and met up Harry— who instantly grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers— Ron and Hermione who were waiting at the entrance for me with the rest of the Weasleys. We were by no means the only ones making our way to the bookshop. As we approached it, we saw to our surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:  

_GILDEROY LOCKHART_

_will be signing copies of his autobiography_

_MAGICAL ME_

_Today 12:30P.M.to 4:30P.M._

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he’s written almost the whole book-list!"        

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley’s age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying,

"Calmly, please, ladies... Don’t push, there... mind the books, now..."  

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. We each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We’ll be able to see him in a minute...

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard’s hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.  

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet—"

"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron— and then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It can’t be Harry Potter?"

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry’s arm, and pulled him to the front, but Harry still held my hand, so I was pulled up front with him. The crowd burst into applause. Harry’s face burned and Lockhart was about to shake his hand but stopped short when he saw Harry's hand intertwined with mine.

He looked at me curiously. "Are you the girlfriend?" I opened my mouth not sure what to say, but I knew I had to, yet I didn't get a chance.

"Blimey! You're Delilah Hawkins!" The crowd went silent. "Get up here!" The crowd cheered again as the photographer shoved us in front with Gilderoy who grabbed Harry in a one arm hug. Panic rising inside of me, I hid behind Harry again, I hate the attention, and since I still haven't really seen my own face in my whole life, I didn't want to have my picture taken. And what on earth is a girlfriend?!

"Nice big smile Harry! Together you and I will make the front page! Delilah being your girlfriend is good for publicity as well!" The cameras flashed numerous times, then Lockhart released Harry, who kept me tucked safe behind him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time! When young Harry and Delilah here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, they only wanted to buy my autobiography— which I shall be happy to present them now, free of charge—" The crowd applauded again. I gave Harry a confused look as he shrugged, looking as uncomfortable as I was.

"They had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving us a little shake that made Harry's glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that they would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. They and their schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" I groaned; I already didn't like this man.

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry and I found ourselves being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. I flicked my finger and shrunk my books before putting them into my bag. Then I went to help Harry with his since he could barely walk, staggering slightly under their weight.

"Thanks," he said relieved. "I think I might give them to Ginny, so the Weasleys don't have to spend a lot."

I nodded as we made our way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where the little redheaded girl from earlier was standing next to her new cauldron. When she saw Harry, she gave him a questioning look, but when her eyes flickered over to me, like earlier, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. I sent her a small smile as she simply stared.

"You can have these," Harry said. "I'll buy my own—"

"Bet you loved that, didn't you Potter?" A voice said, Harry straightened up and turned around, he was face-to-face with the one and only Draco Malfoy, who was wearing his usual sneer. "Famous Harry Potter, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page. And you had to drag in Delilah back there, didn't you? And where did you leave her now? You've got to stop bring—"

"Just, leave him alone, Malfoy," I said in a dark voice, ready to step in front of Harry, but he held me back. The little redheaded girl was looking at me with a worried expression.

"Y-yes. Leave him alone," she said in a small voice but then immediately cowarded back behind Harry.

"Potter, you've finally got yourself a girlfriend!" Malfoy drawled.

"Yeah, and it's Delilah!" she said, louder now before hiding her face behind Harry's back. I felt my cheeks heat up as they kept talking about me as if I weren't here... and seriously! What is a damn girlfriend?!

Malfoy's face went pink with anger as he turned to Ginny. "Oh, look, another Weasley as if they don't have enough!"

I let go of Harry's hand and clenched my fists tightly in anger. The little redheaded girl went scarlet as Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart’s books.

"Oh, it’s you," said Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you’re surprised to see Harry here, eh?"  

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."        

Ron went as red as his sister. He dropped his books into the cauldron, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Harry and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket. I, on the other hand, took that as the perfect opportunity and lunged forward, aiming for the face I had successfully destroyed more last year. Sadly, I wouldn't be able to do that again right now since the moment I lunged and was about a few inches from his face, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist and pulled me back.

"Please calm down, Lilly," Harry whispered in my ear, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I took a deep breath and slightly relaxed yet I remained tense as Malfoy stared at me with a look of shock and... hurt on his face?  

"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside."

Wow. Just, wow. They see Ron drop his books and fuming, but they don't see me inches from Malfoy's face ready to punch him? What a joke.

"Well, well, well— Arthur Weasley."     

A man came forward. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray eyes— probably Mr. Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco’s shoulder, sneering in just the same way.

"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.        

The man raised an eyebrow and averted his gaze towards Harry who was now in front of me.

"Mr. Potter, Lucius Malfoy," he said holding out his hand, and Harry took it and shook his hand. "We finally meet, forgive me," he said pulling Harry to him and pushed the hair covering his scar aside, "your scar is legend, as of course is the wizard who gave it to you."

Harry pushed away. "Voldemort, killed my parents he was nothing, but a murderer," he said.

Lucius Malfoy stared at him, "you must be very brave mentioning his name, or very foolish."

"Fear of the name, only increases fear of the thing itself," Hermione said coming over.

Lucius Malfoy turned and looked at her, "You must be Ms. Granger," he said looking at Draco, who nodded then back to Hermione, "yes Draco's told me all about you and your parents," he said looking over at her parents, "Muggles, aren't they."

He then turned to look at me as his eyes glazed with curiosity. "Thin face, long legs, pale russet skin, jet black hair with light brown highlights, orange-pink morning glory-begonian eyes, and who may you be?" he asked, holding out his hand, which I took and he leaned down and kissed it. I mentally face-palmed myself for not bringing my white board. I didn't even want to talk today. And now I had to talk to a stupid man who only cares if you're a pure-blood? Oh, Goddess of the Moon, why did I forget?

"Delilah. Delilah Hawkins," I answered coldly, mentally banging my head against an invisible wall. Why does my voice have to sound so soft and angelic, especially at times like these? How on earth am I going to lead a pack with this kind of voice?

I was about to pull away, but the man pulled me closer and tilted my neck to the side so he could see my scar. "The second legendary scar, marking the most powerful witch in the world," he said. "If the rumors are right, you acquired another scar from the same dark wizard?"

I stared blankly at him. "On my shoulder. Sadly, you will not get to see it," I replied icily, yanking myself away from his grasp as Harry moved closer to me. He was about to grab my hand but I moved away, tired of all these physical interactions.

Lucius smirked. "Draco has told me a whole lot about you and he was correct— you are quite extraordinary and beautiful." Harry moved in front of me completely and glared at Draco who just smirked.

Lucius then turned and looked back at the little redheaded girl and gave her a cold look before looking up at Mr. Weasley again. "Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids… I hope they’re paying you overtime?"        

He reached into the girl's cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration. "Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?"

I growled. He has no right to speak of anyone that way.

Mr. Weasley flushed darker than either Ron or the little redheaded girl.        

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively. "The company you keep, Weasleys... and I thought your family could sink no lower."        

Before I could do anything, Harry grabbed me by my waist again, then there was a thud of metal as the little redheaded girl's cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spell books came thundering down on all their heads.

"Get him, Dad!" either Fred or George shouted.

Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"

The crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over; "Gentlemen, please— please!" cried the assistant, and then, louder than all—

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up—"

Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He was still holding Ginny’s old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.  

"Here, girl— take your book— it’s the best your father can give you—" Pulling himself out of Hagrid’s grip he beckoned to Draco towards the exit, but not before Draco smirked at me and came up to me.

"See you in school, beautiful," he said and with that, he and his father swept from the shop, leaving standing there, shaking in fury.  

"Yeh should’ve ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that— no Malfoy’s worth listenin’ ter— bad blood, that’s what it is— come on now— let’s get outta here."  

The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid’s waist and seemed to think better of it. We hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury.

"A fine example to set for your children... brawling in public... what Gilderoy Lockhart must’ve thought—"    

"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn’t you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he’d be able to work the fight into his report— said it was all publicity—"

I quickly said goodbye to them and apparated myself back home to rest for the last few weeks I had left. I would soon be making my way back to Hogwarts again, and I had to be in shape for whatever was waiting for me this year.


	4. The train ride

The end of the summer vacation came too quickly for my liking. I wasn't looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts, but either way, I had a job to do, so I had to deal with it.  

As I reached King’s Cross at a quarter to eleven I ran straight through the wall and waited patiently for the others— my trunk was already in my room at school— silently reading my book which I haven't finished reading, and it's been a year that I've had it!

I turned to page one hundred and seventy when suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder.

I turned around and smiled when I saw it was Fred and George followed by their parents and the little redheaded girl I had seen back at Flourish and Blotts. Again, she was staring at me with wide eyes and her mouth open.

"Hello," I said in a soft voice, shocking the life out of them. I'm guessing Fred and George were still expecting me not to speak.

"Hey Lee-lee!" they say at the same time. They grinned at me and both kissed each cheek of mine. What is it with them kissing my cheeks all the time? I turned to smile at their parents who had just stepped forward pushing the little girl in front of them forward as well.

"Hello, dear. I'm Molly, Ron's mother," Mrs. Weasley said.

I smiled kindly at her. "Hello, it is nice to meet you. I am—"  

"I'm Arthur, and we already know who you are. Harry and Ron have told us a lot about you. And I'm not quite sure, but I think we saw you back at—"

"Flourish and Blotts," I said, nodding. "It is very nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley." I looked around, worried because I still hadn't spotted Ron or Harry, but they were nowhere to be seen.

"Deli, this is our little sister, Ginny," Fred said, pushing the little redheaded girl forward. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn't know how to say it anymore. It was so adorable!

"Yeah, the one Ron told you wouldn't shut up about you," George added, chuckling as Ginny turned to glare at him. I smiled when she turned back to look at me with the same and only look she has given me since she first saw me. What is so... dazzling about me to have people look at me that way?

"Hello, Ginny. It is nice to meet you," I said softly, holding my hand out like grandpa D. had taught me. She gave me a shocked look as she blushed to the roots of her hair, took it and shook it. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"Do you want to sit with me in a compartment?" I asked, not sure what else to say. She nodded eagerly and grinned from ear to ear.

I chuckled when I grabbed her hand and heard her let out a small excited squeal. I waved goodbye at the Weasley seniors and pulled her onto the train all the way to our compartment.

I sat down quietly by the window and pulled her to my side.

"Alright, Ginny, heads up," I started looking into her big brown eyes. "I do not really speak at school— in fact last year I did not speak at all except in emergencies or when I got really ticked off." She nodded looking scared. "Hey, why are you scared?"

She looked up at me and said in a small voice, "What if nobody likes me?"

I smiled and put an arm around her shoulders. "Everyone will like you, I am sure of it."

She rested her head on my shoulder. "But what if I don't end up in Gryffindor?"

I hesitated a bit at that one. "It would not matter, we would not like you any less." She looked up at me curiously. "As long as I am around, no matter what house you get put in, you can always come to me whenever you need anything. And besides, I have no doubt that you will be put in Gryffindor. You stood up for Harry back at Flourish and Blotts, remember?"

She beamed at me and nodded, but then narrowed her eyes. "But how will you talk to me if you won't be speaking?"

I smiled. " _Like this_ ," I thought to her. " _This is the one of the ways I use to communicate with others— mostly Gryffindors— back at school_."

She stared at me with wide eyes. " _If not_ ," I telekinetically brought my white board and black marker out of my bag. " _I write on this_."

She nodded. "So you'll help me whenever I need help?"

I smiled and nodded. " _Whenever_ ," I assured just as the compartment slid open. It was Hermione.

"Have Harry and Ron got on yet?" Hermione asked, sitting down in front of me.

I shook my head and thought to her, " _No, they have not come through_."

"Where could they be then?" Hermione asked.

" _I_   _do not know_ ," I said, turning to gaze out the window in worry. " _But I am worried_." Then I remembered Ginny was here too.

"Hermione, this is Ginny. She is Ron's sister," I said in a soft, low voice before turning to Ginny. "Ginny, this is my best friend Hermione." They both beamed at me for an unknown reason before greeting each other and shaking hands.

Hermione studied a bit while Ginny played with my fingers as I gazed out the window in worry.

The lady with the trolley full of candy came by and I bought us some letting the two girls have the majority since I still didn't eat much.

I turned my attention back out the window and my eyes instantly widened in shock. There, flying in the air was something that looked like a car and someone dangling from the side.

"Do you girls see that?" I asked them out loud.

"See what?" Hermione and Ginny asked.

I pointed out the window, "That," I said. They looked closer.

"It looks like someone's trying to help someone up," Hermione said.

"It looks a lot like our car, but mum and dad had already left," Ginny said, confused. I don't blame her; I am equally confused.

My eyes widened in shock and I gasped as I realized who those two people were. "What? What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

" _It is them_ ," I thought to them.

We had got to the castle and Ginny went with Hagrid and me and Hermione followed the other 2nd year and up students.

"I don't see Harry or Ron," Hermione said looking around the Great Hall.

" _Me neither_ ," I thought to her sadly.

"Where could they be?" she said. I shrugged and shook my head.

McGonagall, then, came in with the first years and they looked terrified.

"Was that how we looked last year?" Hermione asked.

I chuckled and nodded. " _Probably_ ," I thought to her, smiling. A lot of the first years blushed and pointed or gave me the same look Ginny had given me at first. It was really adorable, yet quite irritating. I wanted to get out of here.

Everyone had already went by, "Ginnerva Weasley," Professor McGonagall said. I saw Ginny walk up to the stool and put the hat on.

"Ah, another Weasley," the hat said.

" _Mister hat, be nice_ ," I thought to the sorting hat.

" _Ah, I see you're back_ ," he thought back.

I chuckled. " _Would never miss a year_."

Mister hat laughed out loud before shouting, "GRYFFINDOR," a minute later.

I clapped along with everyone and Ginny came over and sat beside me. I smiled at her and gave her a small hug. " _I told you so_."

She beamed at me and hugged me back, making me chuckle. "Congratulations," I whispered in her ear. Grandpa D. gave his speech and the food appeared. I stared at it for about ten minutes, not even drinking my pumpkin juice. I didn't feel so good...

"What's wrong, Deli?" Hermione asked, looking concerned. Just then, the twins came up and sat with us along with Lee Jordan.

"Hey girls— hey Lee-lee, what's wrong?" Fred asked, gently touching my cheek.

"Yeah, you're pale as a ghost!" George said, gently touching my forehead.

"How offensive!" Sir Nicholas floated past, pushing his nose in the air. I wanted to answer, but I couldn't even move my lips. What was happening to me?

And then I heard something— something quite apart from the spitting of the dying candles and the buzzing of the crowded Great Hall.

It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom. A voice that was a bit  _too_  familiar to my liking...        

" _Come… come to me… join... join me... or die... die..._ "  

I felt the blood drain from my face. I gripped the edge of the table tightly, literally digging my nails through it as the voice kept whispering.

" _Die... die... let me kill... join... come to me..._ "

"What the bloody hell is wrong with her? Is she sick?!" a voice shouted and suddenly my face was between someone's hands, though for some reason, I couldn't see who it was. My vision was black... I was lost.

"Get your hands off of her, Malfoy," Hermione hissed at him.

"Shut your mouth, you muggleborn," he snapped back. I didn't want Malfoy to keep holding me, but I couldn't move. All I could do was listen to the arguments around me and to the hissing voice— and feel my nails digging deeper into the wood of the table, the splinters cuttings through my skin.

"Deli? Deli!"

" _Join me..._ "

"Come on, answer!"

" _Come..."_

"What's wrong?"

" _Come to me..._ "

"Deli, let go."

" _Or die..._ "

"Let go of the table."

Suddenly, hissing ceased and my vision came back to normal. I blinked a few times then looked around me. Then I averted my gaze down to my hands and my eyes instantly widened in shock. I had dug off a piece of wood from the table and my fingers were covered in blood. Breathing heavily, I placed the large piece of wood under the table and stood up.

" _I_   _am not_   _really hungry. I am going to the common room. I will see you later_ ," I thought to Hermione and the Weasleys. " _The password to my room is **Curatoria**. If any of you need anything, I'll be there_."

With that, I got up and made my way out of the Great Hall. I skipped up the steps and straight to the dormitories, on my way, I passed McGonagall and grandpa D., who smiled and waved at me. I returned it instantly.

I walked past muttering portraits and creaking suits of armor, and climbed narrow flights of stone stairs, until at last I reached the passage where the secret entrance to Gryffindor Tower was hidden, behind an oil painting of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.  

"Pass— oh! Are you alright, dear?" the fat lady asked. I nodded and gave her a weak smile.

She gave me a concerned look before nodding. "Password?" she said.  

"Wattlebird," I whispered before the portrait of the fat lady swung open and I climbed in.

I was going to go straight to my room, but Harry and Ron stopped me. There they were, sitting on the couch.  

"Where have you been? Hermione and I were worried about the two of you. Mostly me since I saw one of you dangling from a flying car— why were you in a flying car— you missed Ginny's sorting— we have all been worried sick! And you missed it! You actually missed it," I said, then I realized I was just mumbling it all so they probably didn't understand a word I said.

"Deli, are you okay? You look really pale." The inevitable question. All the color left my face and I was furious for some unknown reason.

"It does not matter. Where were you?" Ron grabbed my arm and pulled me down on the couch. They launched into a story about how they had to drive the car here because they couldn't get through the barrier. I sighed and subconsciously rested my head on Harry's shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

I frowned. " _I am tired. I am going to bed. I will see you two in the morning_ ," I thought to them.

I got up, kissed their cheeks and made my way towards my room. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I sighed and walked towards my bed, though on the way, I felt really off and collapsed onto the floor before even making it to the bed. Atlas flew up to me as Thunder stumbled his way over as well. They hovered over me, tugging my hand or my hair in worry, but I was already falling deep into the darkness that hadn't taken over me this way in a long time...


	5. Gilderoy Lockhart

_"You little brat, why don't you understand? There. Is. No. Escape," said a cold voice. I opened my eyes and they soon widened as I realized were I was._

_I was **back**.  _

_"You are not going away, so come back here so I can finish with you," he said, anger in his voice._

_Breathing heavily, I looked down, **again** , at my upper arms and saw the scars that I have sustained through the years I had spent here and had to go through the torture. I waited as he came nearer again and held me by my waist, knowing that even if I tried, I wouldn't be able to get away. Plus, this is a dream— a replay of my horrible memories. Memories I can't change nor forget.  _

_"NO!! PLEASE!!" wasn't something I cared about shouting anymore. I couldn't. I couldn't speak in this memory. And even if I wanted to start screaming, I knew that no one would come for me nor hear me because this room was sound proof. I didn't try to pry his hands off because I knew it wouldn't work, he was way too strong._

_He turned my body around in one fluid move and he sat on my thighs, he slipped my shorts off till I was left in my underwear and he started cutting with sharp knife in the small of my back. I knew that he was writing another word but I couldn’t make out the letters because of two reasons— one the letters were too small and two it hurts so much that I couldn’t think about anything else than the pain. I screamed and wriggled to come out of his grasp but he held my arms just above where he was cutting with the knife and my body didn’t even move an inch._

_I didn't scream this time. I didn’t cry. What was the point? After all, I knew I couldn't. I always thought of that as a perk of mine, because if I was able to cry, well let's just say I would be hoping I didn't in the moments I'm being tortured because I know that he wouldn't appreciate that and would only beat me up more. I have to be completely still…_

_I stood still, not wriggling or screaming, I bit my lips and shut my eyes tightly and counted every second that passed as I waited for it to be over and for the darkness to take over me as it usually does... But this time, there was one thing I finally feared._

_Why was I coming back? Will I always keep coming back here and get tortured over and over again?_

~~*~~

I opened my eyes and just to layed there, staring expressionlessly at the blood next to me. Knowing it was mine, but I didn’t care. I liked the way it dripped off my fingers, landing with a splat back into the puddle. I was used to it by now. Even though I didn't understand why I was suddenly dreaming about  _it_  again, I really didn't care.

Ignoring the cramps, aches and freshly reopened cuts, I got up and made my way towards the bathroom and took a shower. After changing into a clean uniform, I put my robe on, grabbed my bag, marker and white board, flicked my finger and made some food appear for Atlas and Thunder before making my way out.

I got to the Great Hall and slowly made my way towards my friends.

"Morning," they said. I nodded expressionlessly, sitting down beside Hermione as Harry sat beside Ron who got a pretty long howler from his mom. After that, the three of them ate as I only nibbled the edge of a small cookie before we made our way towards Herbology.

The class was as boring as ever since I already knew everything about it. I could've fallen asleep standing from boredom, but I still payed attention and did what I had to do.

By the end of the class, I, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Everyone traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.  

Professor McGonagall’s classes were always supposedly hard work, but today was seriously easy. Everything I had learned last year seemed to have leaked back into of my head in just a second. I was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button and it somehow turned into a golden button; it was beautiful.

It was rather different for Harry, all he managed to do was give his beetle a lot of exercise as it scuttled over the desktop avoiding his wand.

Ron was having far worse problems. He had patched up his wand with some borrowed Spellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time Ron tried to transfigure his beetle it engulfed him in thick gray smoke that smelled of rotten eggs. Unable to see what he was doing, Ron accidentally squashed his beetle with his elbow and had to ask for a new one. Professor McGonagall wasn’t pleased.

I was slightly relieved to hear the lunch bell. My brain felt like it was about to explode. Everyone filed out of the classroom except Harry, me and Ron, who was whacking his wand furiously on the desk.

"Stupid— useless— thing—"  

"Write home for another one," Harry suggested as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker.  

"Oh, yeah, and get another Howler back," said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his bag.  

"It’s your own fault your wand got snapped—" 

We went down to lunch, where Ron’s mood was not improved by Hermione’s showing them the handful of perfect coat buttons she had produced in Transfiguration. I didn't really care so I simply ignored them and helped myself to a sausage.

"Are you sure you're alright, Deli?" Hermione asked. I nodded, pushing the sausage around my plate.  

"What’ve we got this afternoon?" said Harry, hastily changing the subject.  

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.  

"Why," demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart’s lessons in little hearts?" I raised an eyebrow as Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.  

We finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyages with Vampires again. Harry and Ron stood talking about Quidditch for several minutes as I simply listened to them before I became aware that I was being closely watched.

I stepped closer to Harry and opened my mouth to speak but he beat me to it. "Do you feel like you're being watched?" he whispered at me as I nodded in response. Looking up, we saw the very small, mousy-haired boy I'd seen trying on the Sorting Hat last night staring at us as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment we looked at him, he went bright red.

"All right, Harry? Delilah? I’m— I’m Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I’m in Gryffindor, too. D’you think— would it be all right if— can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.  

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.        

"So I can prove I’ve met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you. Everyone’s told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you’ve still got a lightning scar on your forehead and you on your neck and shoulder and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures’ll move."

Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It’s amazing here, isn’t it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad’s a milkman, he couldn’t believe it either. So I’m taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it’d be really good if I had one of you"— he looked imploringly at Harry and I— "maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"        

"Signed photos? You’re giving out signed photos, Potter?" Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy’s voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.  

"Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!"  

"No, I’m not," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching.

"Shut up, Malfoy," I muttered.  

"You’re just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe’s neck.  

"Jealous?" said Malfoy, who didn’t need to shout anymore: half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don’t want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don’t think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself." Crabbe and Goyle were snickering stupidly.

I growled at him.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don’t want to start any trouble or your Mommy’ll have to come and take you away from school." He put on a shrill, piercing voice. "‘If you put another toe out of line’—"

A knot of Slytherin fifth-years nearby laughed loudly at this.  

"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It’d be worth more than his family’s whole house—"        

Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand, but Hermione shut Voyages with Vampires with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"  

"What’s all this, what’s all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward us, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who’s giving out signed photos?" I mentally face-palmed myself. Is publicity all this man ever thinks about?

Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn’t have asked! We meet again, Harry! Delilah!" I gave him a weird look then gasped when he pulled the both us to his side. I felt so uncomfortable and I'm sure Harry felt quite humiliated. I saw Malfoy slide smirking back into the crowd and I glared at him.  

"Come on then, Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. "A triple portrait, can’t do better than that, and we’ll all three sign it for you."

Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind us, signaling the start of afternoon classes.  

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with Harry and I. I wish I had practiced the Vanishing Spell— can't Apparate without bringing someone who's clinging to you.

"A word to the wise, Harry and Delilah," said Lockhart paternally as we entered the building through a side door. "I covered up for you back there with young Creevey— if he was photographing me, too, your schoolmates won’t think you’re setting yourself up so much…"  

Deaf to Harry’s stammers, Lockhart swept us down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase. "Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn’t sensible— looks a tad bigheaded, Harry and Deli," wow, already using my nickname, "to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you’ll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but"— he gave a little chortle— "I don’t think you’re quite there yet."

We had reached Lockhart’s classroom and he let Harry and I go at last. Harry yanked his robes straight, grabbed my hand and pulled me over to a seat at the very back of the class, where he busied himself with piling all seven of Lockhart’s books in front of him, so that we could avoid looking at the real thing.        

The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of us.

"You could’ve fried an egg on your face," said Ron. "You’d better hope Creevey doesn’t meet Ginny, or they’ll be starting a Harry Potter and Delilah Hawkins fan club."

I groaned and let my head fall against the desk. Harry softly stroked my hair before turning to glare at Ron. "Shut up," Harry snapped. I don't blame him for snapping; the last thing either of us needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase 'Harry Potter and Delilah Hawkins fan club'.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom’s copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He waited for us to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.  

"I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books— well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about— just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in—"

When he had handed out the test papers. I looked down at my paper and read:

_1.  What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?_

_2.  What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?_

_3.  What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?_

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:       

_54\. When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_

I looked at Harry and Ron with an 'is he serious?' look. They had the same looks on their faces. Creeped out by this unnecessary quiz, I raised my hand, but didn't bother to wait.

"Professor... these questions are all about... just you," I pointed out. "How will it help us with defending ourselves against the dark arts?"

He looked up and beamed at me, making me raise an eyebrow this time. I could feel people staring at me in shock at the fact that I just spoke, but I ignored it.

"Why if it isn't Delilah Hawkins," he exclaimed himself, still beaming at me. 

I raised an eyebrow at him. 

"I hear you have mastered some gifts over the four elements of nature, but more specifically fire and air..." I tensed at the mentioning of fire and at the fact that he knew about my control over the elements. How did he know? Not even Snaps knows about this! Grandpa D. is the only one other than me. "Can you show me?" Lockhart asked.

"Can I not show you, Professor?" I asked. He shook his head and waited for me but I didn't move. I didn't want to do this.  

"What? Can't do it?" Pansy Parkinson asked, with a mocking edge to her tone.

I stood up and glared at her. "You want to see? Fine, let me show you," I said in a deadly voice as I stuck my hand out at her. Her eyes widened in shock. After a few seconds, red sparks emerged from my hand creating a fireball. I turned it into a tiny grey hurricane and she screamed before ducking under her desk as soon as the hurricane completely burst out of my hand and towards her, flipping everything that lay on the top of her desk.

"Whoosh," I said humorlessly before sitting back down as the Gryffindors burst into a roaring laughing fit along with a few Slytherins.

Lockhart returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes— start—now!"

I stared back down at my sheet and just guessed all the answers. Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.        

"Tut, tut— hardly any of you— actually... Miss Hawkins remembered that my favorite color is lilac," he said, winking at me as I gave him a weird look, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully— I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non- magic peoples— though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogdeds Old Firewhisky!"        

He gave us another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.        

"... and Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil— "

"Is that not everyone's dream?" I muttered, making Harry and Ron laugh silently.

"— and market my own range of hair-care potions— good girl! In fact"— he flipped her paper over— "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?" Hermione raised a trembling hand as I gave her an 'are you serious' look which she completely ignored.        

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And another ten for Miss Delilah Hawkins. And so— to business—" He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.        

"Now— be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

Harry leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Neville was cowering in his front row seat.        

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover. "Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."      

"He did not," I murmured in disbelief.

"I think he did," Hermione whispered at me.

Seamus Finnigan couldn’t control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn’t mistake for a scream of terror.        

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.        

"Well, they’re not— they’re not very— dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.      

"Don’t be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!”        

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.       

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let’s see what you make of them!"

And he opened the cage.        

I jumped off my seat and fell onto the floor and grabbing one of my books and beating them away.

It was pandemonium.

The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.    

"Come on now— round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies," Lockhart shouted. He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

"What the— that is not even a spell!" I exclaimed myself, hitting another pixie away.        

"Don't worry Neville we'll get you down," I heard Hermione say from beside me before shrieking. "Get off me!" she shouted, swatting her arms around her head.

"Stop, hold still," Harry said. Then he took a book and slammed it against the pixie knocking it off.

I watched as everyone scurried away, beating the air with their books or wrapping their arms around their heads and running.

Lockhart tried the made spell again, but it had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who could fall any second now.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Ron, Hermione and I, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I’ll ask you four to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past us and shut the door quickly behind him.          

I looked over at my three friends, when suddenly, I was being pulled upward by my hair.

I started  swatting my hands in the air around my head.

"Lilly!" Harry shouted looking up at me with a panicked look. "Do something," he shouted at Hermione who was looking at me with the same panicked look.

"Oh, for the love of—" I threw fireballs at the three little demons that were pulling me up and they instantly let go, making me fall. I was caught off guard when I landed on top of something softer than the marble floor. I looked up and saw I had landed on top of Harry.

"Sorry," I muttered before turning around, bringing my wand out and pointing it up at the crazed pixie and shouting, "Immobulus!" then all the pixies froze in mid air.

Sighing, Harry grabbed my hand and pulled me up along with him. Ron, Harry and Hermione smiled at me just as we heard another voice behind us, sniffling.

"Why's it always me?"

I turned around and pointed my wand and started lowering the chandelier down so Neville could get off, "Thanks," he said.

I nodded and started grabbing pixies and putting them back in their cage.

"Can you believe him?" roared Ron as one of the remaining pixies bit him painfully on the ear.        

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione, stuffing two pixies at once back into their cage.

"Hands on?" said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing—"        

"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You’ve read his books— look at all those amazing things he’s done—"        

"He says he’s done," Ron muttered.


	6. Mudbloods and Murmurs

Harry and I spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever we saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. Harder to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to have memorized our schedule.

Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, "All right, Harry? How about you Delilah?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hello, Colin," back, however exasperated I sounded when I said it.  

Hermione was daydreaming about Lockhart, I was continuously having my nightmares again— at least Thunder and Atlas took care of me— Hedwig was angry with Harry about something and Ron’s wand was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday morning by shooting out of Ron’s hand in Charms and hitting tiny old Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, creating a large, throbbing green boil where it had struck. So with one thing and another, I was quite glad to reach the weekend. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. I, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than I would have liked by Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and a very sleepy Harry.  

"What?" I groaned.

"Quidditch practice!" said Wood. "Come on!"

I squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky. Now that I was awake, I couldn’t understand how I could have slept through the racket the birds were making.  

"Darn you, Oliver," I muttered.

I got up and flicked my finger turning my pajamas into my Quidditch uniform as the tall and burly sixth year and beamed at me with his eyes gleaming with a crazed enthusiasm. "It’s part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let’s go," said Wood heartily. "None of the other teams have started training yet; we’re going to be first off the mark this year—"  

Yawning and shivering slightly, I climbed out of bed and made some food for Thunder and Atlas before heading down the spiral staircase to the common room, my Nimbus Two Thousand on my shoulder, where Harry was waiting for me.  

We had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind us and Colin Creevey came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

I groaned. "I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry! Delilah! Look what I’ve got here! I’ve had it developed, I wanted to show you—"

Harry looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing under his nose. A moving, black-and-white Lockhart was tugging hard on two arms I recognized as mine and Harry's.

"Will you sign it?" said Colin eagerly.        

"No," said Harry flatly, and I started feeling slightly bad. "Sorry, Colin, we're in a hurry— Quidditch practice—"        

We climbed through the portrait hole.        

"Oh, wow! Wait for me! I’ve never watched a Quidditch game before!"        

Colin scrambled through the hole after him.        

"It’ll be really boring," Harry said quickly as I nodded in agreement, but Colin ignored us, his face shining with excitement.        

"You two were the youngest House player in a hundred years, weren’t you? Weren’t you?" said Colin, trotting alongside him. "You must be brilliant. I’ve never flown. Is it easy? Are those your own brooms? Are they the best ones there are?"        

We didn’t know how to get rid of him. It was like having an extremely talkative shadow.        

"I don’t really understand Quidditch," said Colin breathlessly. "Is it true there are four balls? And two of them fly around trying to knock people off their brooms?"        

"Yes," said Harry heavily, resigned to explaining the complicated rules of Quidditch. "They’re called Bludgers. There are two Beaters on each team who carry clubs to beat the Bludgers away from their side. Fred and George Weasley are the Gryffindor Beaters."        

"And what are the other balls for?" Colin asked, tripping down a couple of steps because he was gazing open-mouthed at Harry.        

"Well, the Quaffle— that’s the biggish red one— is the one that scores goals. Four Chasers on each team throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through the goal posts at the end of the pitch— they’re three long poles with hoops on the end."        

"And the fourth ball—"        

"— is the Golden Snitch," said Harry, "and it’s very small, very fast, and difficult to catch. But that’s what the Seeker’s got to do, because a game of Quidditch doesn’t end until the Snitch has been caught. And whichever team’s Seeker gets the Snitch earns his team an extra hundred and fifty points."        

But Colin didn’t stop questioning Harry all the way down the sloping lawns to the Quidditch field, and Harry only shook him off when we reached the changing rooms; Colin called after him in a piping voice, "I’ll go and get a good seat, Harry! See you, Delilah!" and hurried off to the stands.      

I grunted. "Kill me now," I muttered.        

"No," Harry replied.

"Damn you!"   

The rest of the Gryffindor team were already in the changing room. Wood was the only person who looked truly awake. Fred and George Weasley were sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired, next to fourth year Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. My other fellow Chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning side by side opposite them.        

"There you are, you two, what kept you?" said Wood briskly. "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference..."        

Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley’s head drooped right onto Alicia Spinnet’s shoulder and he began to snore.        

The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry sank into a stupor as Wood droned on and on.        

"So," said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fantasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle. "Is that clear? Any questions?"        

"I’ve got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn’t you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"        

Wood wasn’t pleased. "Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all. "We should have won the Quidditch cup last year. We’re easily the best team. But unfortunately— owing to circumstances beyond our control—"        

Harry shifted guiltily in his seat. We had both been unconscious in the hospital wing for the final match of the previous year, meaning that Gryffindor had been two players short and had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years, but I didn't really feel guilty. After all, we did stop Voldermort from ressurecting. Wood on the other hand... let's just say he's pretty sensitive when it comes to losing in Quidditch no matter the reason. He took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat was clearly still torturing him.        

"So this year, we train harder than ever before... Okay, let’s go and put our new theories into practice!" Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the locker rooms. Stiff-legged and still yawning, the team followed.        

We had been in the locker room so long that the sun was up completely now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry walked onto the field, he saw Ron and Hermione sitting in the stands.        

"Aren’t you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.        

"Haven’t even started," Harry said while I shook my head as he looked jealously at the toast and marmalade Ron and Hermione had brought out of the Great Hall. "Wood’s been teaching us new moves."

We mounted our broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. The cool morning air whipped my face, waking me far more effectively than Wood’s long talk. It felt wonderful to be back on the Quidditch field. I soared right around the stadium at full speed, racing Harry, Fred and George.        

"What’s that funny clicking noise?" called Fred as we hurtled around the corner.        

I looked into the stands. Colin was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.        

"Look this way, Harry! This way, Delilah!" he cried shrilly.       

"Who’s that?" Fred asked as I groaned.        

"No idea," Harry lied, putting on a spurt of speed that took him as far away as possible from Colin as I did the same.       

"What’s going on?" Wood said, frowning, as he skimmed through the air toward us. "Why’s that first year taking pictures? I don’t like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."        

"He’s in Gryffindor," Harry said quickly.        

"And the Slytherins don’t need a spy, Oliver," George said.        

"What makes you say that?" Wood said testily.        

"Because they’re here in person," George said, pointing.        

Several people in green robes were walking onto the field, broomsticks in their hands.

I growled.

"I don’t believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We’ll see about this!"        

Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred, George and I followed.        

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"        

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"        

"Ah," said Flint. "But I’ve got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker'."       

"You’ve got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"        

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

Great. This is  _just_  great. Note the sarcasm.

"Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?" Fred said, looking at Malfoy with dislike.        

"Funny you should mention Draco’s father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he’s made to the Slytherin team."        

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors’ noses in the early morning sun.        

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps"— he winked at me and smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives— "sweeps the board with them."        

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion."        

Ron and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on.  

"What’s happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren’t you playing? And what’s he doing here?"

He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.        

"I’m the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone’s just been admiring the brooms my father’s bought our team."       

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.        

"Good, aren’t they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."      

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.        

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."        

The smug look on Malfoy’s face flickered. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

I blinked, my expression not changing. But then I remembered what it meant.

I quickly looked around and saw Harry's confused expression, Ron's face reddening in fury and Hermione's hurt expression. I knew at once that what Malfoy had said was something worse than what I thought because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint even had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, but from all of them, I was the first to break the deadly silence.  

I menacingly stepped in front of Hermonie in a protective stance. "Say that again, Draco. I dare you," I hissed, venom seeping through my voice. Malfoy hesitated.

"Filthy Mudblood," he said, but before he could smile I punched him in the nose, eye or jaw... or all three.

"You should know that I know that you know that insults do not effect me... but you dare hurt Hermonie verbally or physically," I said, bending down and clucthing his collar, "You will regret the day you were ever born because I will make your life a living hell." I pushed him back to the ground and walked to Hermonie but before I could ask if she was alright, Malfoy said, 

"Stuck up bitch, I can't believe she kissed me last year."

The Gryffindors gasped and some Slytherins as well. But I bet the only reason the Slytherins were gasping is because they knew Malfoy was in deep Tartarus' ground. I felt my eyes go red and thunder stormed around me. I slowly turned around and felt my eyes go black.

"First of all, I never kissed you, nor would I in a million years or if you were the last boy in the galaxy. Second of all—"

"She's going to explode," Fred and George whispered in shock at the same time, but I ignored them.

"You. Are. Dead." I said deadly calm before jumping at him, but Ron and Hermione threw their arms around me and struggled to hold me back, but it was nowhere near enough; I was much too strong for them.  

"Help, she's too strong!" Hermione yelled. The whole Gryffindor team had to hold me back and it still wasn't enough. Malfoy had a black eye, a bloody nose and a cut lip. He still had that annoying smirk on his face.

"You're all just weaklings," he sneered.

"Ugh!" I shrieked, breaking free and running at Malfoy, but everything happened so fast that the next thing I knew, I was swung over someone's shoulder in a way I did not like at all.  

"Harry! Put me down this instant!" I shouted, feeling my body heat enhance. I mentally face-palmed myself as my voice came out melodic instead of hard and strong as I'd hoped.

"No. You're going to kill Malfoy!" he shouted back.

"He deserves it!" I exclaimed myself. "Did you forget that disgusting, idiotic, stuck up, little brat kissed me last year?!" I hissed as I felt him tighten his grip around my waist. 

"We’d better get her to Hagrid’s... to calm her down. It’s nearest," Harry said to the other Gryffindors, who simply nodded.

He turned around, making me face Malfoy and I sent him a death glare.  

"What happened, Harry? What happened? Is she ill? But you can cure her, can’t you?" Colin had run down from his seat and was now dancing alongside them as we left the field. I am seriously thinking of hexing this boy; he's really starting to get on my nerves. I was so furious that I suddenly felt sparks starting to fly out of my body and my temperature rose to a hotter level. I think Harry felt it since his grip on my waist tightened once again. I think by this point, I was glowing.

"Oooh," said Colin, fascinated and raising his camera. "Can you turn her around and hold her still, Harry?"

I growled. "Can I punch him?!" I hissed.

"No!" Harry and Hermione shouted as Ron cried out a, "Yes, please!"

"Deli," Hermione warned as I huffed.

"Get out of the way, Colin!" Harry said angrily. My body temperature increased a whole lot more as we neared the hut. I started to panic because I had never really gone as far as this while being angry. Usually I calm down after just a few seconds. Ron and Hermione saw my panicked look and both smiled reassuringly at me.  

"Nearly there, Deli," Ron said.

Hermione nodded. "You’ll be all right in a minute— almost there—"  

We were within twenty feet of Hagrid’s house when the front door opened, but it wasn’t Hagrid who emerged. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, came striding out.  

"Quick, behind here," Harry hissed, dragging Ron behind a nearby bush. Hermione followed, somewhat reluctantly. Harry tightened his grip around my waist making me hiss lowly in the sudden pain resurfacing.

"Harry!" I whisper-yelled at him. "Not too tight!"

He loosened his grip muttering a 'sorry' under his breath.

"It’s a simple matter if you know what you’re doing!" Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid. "If you need help, you know where I am! I’ll let you have a copy of my book. I’m surprised you haven’t already got one— I’ll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, good-bye!" And he strode away toward the castle.  

We waited until Lockhart was out of sight, then pulled Ron and Hermione— I was still swung over his shoulder— out of the bush and up to Hagrid’s front door. One of them knocked urgently.  

Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.  

"Bin wonderin’ when you’d come ter see me— come in, come in— thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again—"  

Harry carried me over the threshold into the one-roomed cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in the other. Hagrid finally noticed me over Harry's shoulder and gave us a puzzled look.

"What—"  he started, pointing at me.

"Don't even ask," Ron said as Harry set me down on a chair beside him but kept an arm around my waist just in case if I lost control again.

"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked, scratching Fang’s ears with his free hand.

"Givin’ me advice on gettin’ kelpies out of a well," growled Hagrid, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot. "Like I don’ know. An’ bangin’ on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I’ll eat my kettle."

"I still think he is nothing but a fraud," I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest and scowling at nothing in particular as Harry leant in and kissed my cheek, making me growl again, involuntarily.      

"When did you think that?" Ron asked curiously.

"Since Flourish and Blotts. The man is so full of himself! Have you not noticed how everything he does or talks... is-just— ugh!"

"I agree with Deli," Hagrid, said in a low voice as Ron and Harry nodded in agreement.

It was unlike Hagrid to criticize a Hogwarts' teacher, and I can't deny it kind of surprised me. Hermione, however, said in a voice somewhat higher than usual, "I think you’re being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job—"        

"He was the on’y man for the job," said Hagrid, offering us a plate of treacle fudge, which I more calmly and kindly turned down. "An’ I mean the on’y one. Gettin’ very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren’t too keen ter take it on, see. They’re startin’ ter think it’s jinxed. No one’s lasted long fer a while now. So tell me," said Hagrid, jerking his head at me.

"Who was she tryin’ ter beat dead, eh?"        

"Malfoy called Hermione something— it must’ve been really bad, because everyone went wild."  

"It was bad," said Ron angrily, balling up his hands into fists. "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Hagrid—"  

Hagrid looked outraged. "He didn'!" he growled at Hermione. 

"He did," she said. "But I don’t know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course—"

"It most definitely was! Why do you think Deli went and beat the crap out of him?" Ron asked in a 'duh' voice while imitating my punch. Hermione, despite her confusion smiled thankfully at me.

"What's a mudblood?" Harry asked, giving us puzzled look.

"It’s about the most insulting thing he could think of," gasped Ron as I nodded in agreement.

"Mudblood is a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born— you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards— like Malfoy’s family— who think they are better than everyone else because they are what people call pure-blood." I clenched my fists even tighter till my knuckles went practically as white as bone.

Ron nodded and added, "Yeah, I mean, the rest of us know it doesn’t make any difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom— he’s pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."  

"An’ they haven’t invented a spell our Hermione or Deli can’ do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta as I slightly relaxed a bit more and smiled a small smile.

"It’s a disgusting thing to call someone," said Ron.

"Disturbing," I agreed, nodding.  

He nodded, as well, as he went on, "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It’s ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn’t married Muggles we’d’ve died out."

Hagrid passed me a big stone— so I wouldn't break any of his things— in which I dug my fingers slowly into, crushing rather than digging; the consistency reminded me of hard cheese. I ended up with a handful of gravel.  

"Well, I don’ blame yeh fer tryin’ ter beat him, Deli," said Hagrid loudly over the thuds of more slugs hitting the basin. "Bu’ maybe it was a good thing yer friends stopped yeh. You know what Dumbledore'd say about—"

I groaned. "I know, I know! It is just getting a lot harder to control myself ever since the... summer solstice," I said, making a weird face at the term I used for my summer training. I couldn't have my golden trio knowing about me just yet...

"Least yer not in trouble," he said as I smiled sadly at him.

"Harry," said Hagrid abruptly as though struck by a sudden thought. "Gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I’ve heard you’ve bin givin’ out signed photos. How come I haven’t got one?"        

Furious, Harry wrenched his teeth apart.

"I have not been giving out signed photos," he said hotly. "If Lockhart’s still spreading that around—"        

But then we saw that Hagrid was laughing.        

"I’m on’y jokin’," he said, patting Harry genially on the back and sending him face first into the table. "I knew yeh hadn’t really. I told Lockhart yeh didn’ need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin’."

"Bet he did not like that," I said as Harry rubbed his chin. I moved his hands away and kissed his chin softly. By the looks of it Harry looked a lot better.

"Don’ think he did," said Hagrid, his eyes twinkling at the two of us. "An’ then I told him I’d never read one o’ his books an’ he decided ter go. Treacle fudge, anyone?" he added.  

"No thanks," we said.      

"Come an’ see what I’ve bin growin’," said Hagrid as Harry and Hermione finished the last of their tea.        

In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid’s house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins I had ever seen in my entire life. Each was the size of a large boulder.        

"Gettin’ on well, aren’t they?" said Hagrid happily. "Fer the Halloween feast... should be big enough by then."        

"What’ve you been feeding them?" said Harry.        

Hagrid looked over his shoulder to check that we were alone.        

"Well, I’ve bin givin’ them— you know— a bit o’ help—"        

Harry noticed Hagrid’s flowery pink umbrella leaning against the back wall of the cabin. Harry had had reason to believe before now that this umbrella was not all it looked; in fact, he had the strong impression that Hagrid’s old school wand was concealed inside it. Hagrid wasn’t supposed to use magic. He had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but Harry had never found out why— any mention of the matter and Hagrid would clear his throat loudly and become mysteriously deaf until the subject was changed.

"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?" said Hermione, halfway between disapproval and amusement.

I smiled at Hagrid. "Well, you have done a good job on them."  

"That’s what yer little sister said," said Hagrid, nodding at Ron. "Met her jus’ yesterday." Hagrid looked sideways at me, his beard twitching. "Said she was jus’ lookin’ round the grounds fer Deli. She said she missed talking to her." He winked at Harry and I. "If yeh ask me, she wouldn’ say no ter a signed—"

I groaned. "Oh, shut up," said Harry. Ron snorted with laughter and Hermione giggled as I simply smiled, shook my head amused and kissed his cheek. His eyes widened and he touched his cheek.

Harry, Ron and I slouched into the Great Hall in states of deepest gloom, Hermione behind us, wearing a well-you-did-break-school-rules sort of expression. Harry didn’t enjoy his shepherd’s pie as much as he’d thought and Ron barely ate! Both, he and Ron, seemed to have felt they’d got the worse deal.  

"Filch’ll gave me there all night," said Ron heavily. "No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I’m no good at Muggle cleaning."

"I’d swap anytime," said Harry hollowly. "I’ve had loads of practice with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart’s fan mail... he’ll be a nightmare..." 

Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time, it was five minutes to eight, and Harry was dragging his feet along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart’s office. I was following right behind under my invisibility charm.  

The door flew open at once. Lockhart beamed down at him.  

"Ah, here’s the scalawag!" he said. "Come in, Harry, come in—"

Shining brightly on the walls by the light of many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile lay on his desk.  

"You can address the envelopes!" Lockhart told Harry, as though this was a huge treat.  

"This first one’s to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her— huge fan of mine—"

The minutes snailed by. It was so annoying to have Lockhart’s voice wash over me, occasionally saying, "Mmm" and "Right" and "Yeah."

Now and then I caught a phrase like, "Fame’s a fickle friend, Harry," or "I wonder if you and Delilah get as much fans as I do..." or "Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that."  

The candles burned lower and lower, making the light dance over the many moving faces of Lockhart watching him. Harry moved his aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, writing out Veronica Smethley’s address. It must be nearly time fro Harry to leave, please let it be nearly time...        

And then I heard it again— that something quite apart from the spitting of the dying candles and Lockhart’s prattle about his fans.        

It was a voice,  _the_  voice that chills the bone marrow, that voice filled with breathtaking, ice-cold venom.        

_"Come... come to me... Let me rip you... Let me tear you... Let me kill you..."_

I noticed from the corner of my eye, Harry gave a huge jump and a large lilac blot appeared on Veronica Smethley’s street.        

"What?" he said loudly. I frowned.        

"I know!" said Lockhart. "Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!"

"No," said Harry frantically. "That voice!"        

"Sorry?" said Lockhart, looking puzzled. "What voice?"        

"That— that voice that said— didn’t you hear it?"

Shoot, shoot, crazy gun, shoot! He hears it too.        

Lockhart was looking at Harry in high astonishment.        

"What are you talking about, Harry? Perhaps you’re getting a little drowsy? Great Scott— look at the time! We’ve been here nearly four hours! I’d never have believed it— the time’s flown, hasn’t it?"        

Harry didn’t answer. Looking dazed, he left. I apparated myself back into my room and dozed off into a heavy sleep full of my usual nightmares.


	7. The diary

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy. She was starting to worry me. The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid’s pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood’s enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Harry and I were to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, returning to Gryffindor Tower, drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.  

Even aside from the rain and wind it hadn’t been a happy practice session. Fred and George, who had been spying on the Slytherin team, had seen for themselves the speed of those new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. They reported that the Slytherin team was no more than seven greenish blurs, shooting through the air like missiles. As Harry squelched along the deserted corridor he came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as he was. Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring morosely out of a window, muttering under his breath, "... don’t fulfill their requirements... half an inch, if that..."  

Hermione and Ron were in the common room waiting for Harry and I. Once we were done changing and went back to join the others, Harry started telling us about a Deathday party we had to attend.

" _A_   _Deathday_   _party_?" I thought to them.

"I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those—" Hermione said.

"It will be just fascinating!" I muttered sarcastically.

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" Ron said grumpy as he did his potions homework. "Sounds dead depressing to me."

Once Halloween arrived, Harry and the other two were literally dragging me to the party they had promised to attend. Got to make up an excuse to not go— I already freak out at a normal party for the excess of people in a supposed small crowd, so imagine how many dead people there would be at that party.

"A promise is a promise," Hermione said bossily as Harry and I said we didn't want to go.

"Well," I started. They looked at me. "You said you would go to the Deathday party," I reminded Harry. "But I can not go."

"Why not?" Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

"Ginny wanted to show me something," I lied, though I did want to see her, I was worried. "I better go, she is probably waiting."

"Oh, okay, bye," Harry said as he kissed my cheek.

"See you all later," I said running off to the girls dormitories. "Ginny, where are you?" I said as I entered her dorm.

"Over here," she called from a window.

"Are you okay, Ginny?" She nodded, as I placed a hand on her forehead. "Sure?" She whimpered and shook her head.

"What? What is wrong?" I asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

She rested her head on my shoulder. "I need to show you something," she whispered.

I nodded. "Alright. What do you want to show me?"

She got up and snatched something from her nightstand. "This!" She said showing me her diary.

"Er— your diary?" I asked confused.

"It's not just a diary— the diary talks back," she said. "Here, write in it!"

I grabbed the book and put it on the desk. I looked at Ginny. "What should I write?"

"Um... first thing that comes to mind," she suggested.

I sighed and wrote, "My name is Delilah Hawkins." The words shone momentarily on the page and they sank without trace. Then, at last, something happened.  

Oozing back out of the page, in my very own ink, came words I had never written.  

"Delilah Hawkins, what a beautiful name. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?" Tom Riddle? Where have I heard that name before? It sounds oddly familiar.

These words, too, faded away, but not before I had started to scribble back.  

"It was given to my friend Ginny and she showed it to me just now."

I waited eagerly for Riddle’s reply.        

"Funny. I never thought my diary would someday end in someone else's possession."

"How come you are writing back?" I wrote.

"I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read."

"What do you mean?" I scrawled, blotting the page in my excitement but calmed down when I heard Ginny's light snore. I turned to look at her and saw her resting her head against my shoulder, sleeping soundly. I smiled and put the diary down. I picked her up in my arms and layed herd down on her bed, tucking her in so she wouldn't get cold. After that, I went back to the diary.

Tom had written back. "I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."      

"That is where I am now," I wrote quickly. "I am at Hogwarts, and horrible things have been happening. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"  

"Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who’d opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned."        

I nearly upset Ginny's ink bottle in my hurry to write back.        

"It is happening again now. There have been three attacks and no one seems to know who is behind them. Who was it last time?" I knew I was lying since no one was really attacked, but I felt like I need to know... like soon there  _will_  be attacks.

"I can show you some other time, if you want," was his reply. I narrowed my eyes and slightly frowned.

"Okay," was my reply. I sighed and stared at the diary for like five minutes. "Sometimes... I feel so small and vulnerable against the whole world," I wrote.

"You shouldn't. You're a good girl. I'm sure you will find a way and be happy again, no matter what happened to you in your past," he replied.

"Thank you, that was really kind of you," I wrote back. "I am so glad I have got this diary to confide in... It is like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket..."

"So Ginny is your best friend?" he wrote. I was surprised. I didn't know that Ginny would actually consider me that way.

"I guess you can say that," I wrote back.  

"That's good. She's a good girl. I like her. She's very nice, like you," he replied and for some reason, I blushed. Why on earth am I blushing at what a book is telling me?

"Thank you," I replied.

He didn't write back until a few seconds later. "She looks up to you, you know?"

Ginny looks up to me? Why? What is there about me that seems so admirable to others? I only see and know myself as a girl who's had a hell of a life and even though she managed to choose a different path, it's still hell. I mean, sure, for the first time in forever, I actually risked my life for others— I never could do that before, me being held captive— but this path also has danger at every corner. Magic is the danger.

"So... is there a special someone whom you love?" My heart shattered the moment those words appeared. The only special someone whom I had ever loved in that way was Chance. I still love him for the matter at fact. He was the boy I wanted to grow up with, get together with, get married with and have a life with, having little future soul guardians running around our big house. I never will, now. That dream will never come true.

"He is... dead."

About two minutes passed before her replied. "I'm sorry."

"He is dead... and it is all my fault," I wrote, feeling my heart shatter even more.

"Of course not. It couldn't have been you who killed him."

"I... I as good as killed them."

"Them?"

"My family, all of them... now I am alone," I wrote, starting to breathe heavily as I tried hard to avoid having a flashback from that night.

"How?"

I stared at the diary for about thirty seconds before replying. "I listened to what they told me to do and ran. I ran... and left them behind... to face their death." I took a deep breath before going on. "And remembering that... it just hurts so much. That mistake and many others I have made keep haunting me... when they should actually be haunting the ones that took away the people I ever loved the most."

"Even if love is full of thorns, I'd still embrace it for I know that in between those thorns, there is a rose that's worth all the pain. You shouldn't hold it against you. You're alive and that is surely what they would have wanted... You shouldn't give up on hope."

I nodded to myself and took another deep breath before replying. "I am not saying I am giving up. I am just trying not to think as much as I used to. I guess I can try to forgive myself even though I will never stop blaming—" I stopped. I shouldn't be telling these things to anyone, not even a diary.

"Blaming what?"

Blaming what? Is he kidding me? What would I not blame about this stupid existence? Why couldn't this world just be normal— no werewolf, no vampire, no packs, no witches or wizards— just normal humans?

"I blame magic," I replied.

He didn't reply until after five minutes had passed. "Why?"

"Because... my grandfather was right. Magic is dangerous, it always comes with a price. You never know what the price is, but when you do... the idea bewilders you... Because sometimes— most of the time... the price is death. I did not want magic, yet I got it along with the price."

"Your friend didn't die last year now, did he?"

That caught me off guard. Friend? Last year— what? "What? What are you talking about?"

"Your friend Harry Potter. He did not die in your little adventure last year, so your statement about magic is wrong."

I blinked a few times in disbelief. How does he know about last year? "How do you know about Harry? And last year?"

"Ginny," was his only reply before he added, "so what do you think of Harry?"

Really? That's seriously the poorest way to change the subject. If he didn't want to keep up the previous one he could've just said so— wait, why am I even thinking this way? Oh, well, might as well answer before I go to the Great Hall.

What do I think of Harry?

I placed the point of the quill on the page and started slowly scribbling down my reply. "Harry... I think he is great— probably the best out of the two of us. He was a baby when Voldemort came and killed his parents. My grandparents had gone through a similar fate a while before when I was only three months old. Voldemort had tried the killing curse on me afterwards but it rebounded leaving me with a scar while he ended seriously damaged. He did the same with Harry and the curse rebounded as well, but this time, it was too strong for Voldemort that it killed him and left a scar, similar to mine, on Harry's forehead. Voldemort was never heard of again, until a year ago he came back, but Harry and I fought him, and won."

"Interesting," Tom replied.

I raised an eyebrow and looked at the time. My friends would be back soon from the Deathday party, so I should go.

"Er... well, it was nice meeting you, but I have to go. But before I go, I want to ask you something."

"What do you want to know?"

I narrowed my eyes as I nervously— why I was nervous, I have no idea— pressed the quill harder against the page. "Do you think my whole name is really long? I mean, sure, it may not be as long as Dumbledore's, but... I do not know."

"What is your whole name?"

"Delilah Keren Aleah Hawkins."

Thirty seconds later. "You have a wonderful name. I don't think it's extremely long— I personally think it's the right length."

I nodded once again to myself. "What is your whole name."

About three minutes later he finally replied. "Tom Marvolo Riddle." Yes! I can search it up now.

"Nice name and thank you for making me feel better. I think I will be writing to you soon," I wrote, biting my tongue in anxiety. I wanted to leave so I can search it up as soon as possible.

"It was my pleasure. I will be waiting patiently for you return, Delilah. Good day."

I smiled. "Good day to you too, Tom." And with that I closed the diary, put the quill and ink bottle away and left Ginny's dorm.

~~*~~

I was calmly making my way down the long staircases toward the entrance hall when I heard it.

_"... rip... tear... kill..."_

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice I had heard on my first day back at Hogwarts and in Lockhart’s office.  

_"... soo hungry... for so long..."_

I stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all my might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.   

_"... kill ... time to kill..."_

Can't that voice find anything knew to say? Seriously, it's not only annoying, it's also irritating!

The voice was growing fainter. I was sure it was moving away— moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped me as I stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn’t matter?  

I began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here, the babble of talk from the Halloween feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. I sprinted down the marble staircase to the first floor and almost  _shifted_  when I found myself being tackled onto the ground.  

"Lilly?" Harry whispered. I nodded as he sighed in relief, looking into my eyes.

_"... kill... time to kill..."_

I whimpered, gripping onto Harry's arms. Out of all words in existence, the voice just had to repeat that one over and over again, didn't it.

"You can hear it too?" Harry whispered-shouted in shock. I closed my eyes tight and nodded. I suddenly felt a pair of warm soft lips pressed against mine before I was pulled up. Harry took my hand and squeezed it gently as his breathing slowly calmed down.

Just then, Ron and Hermione made their way up to us, panting rather loudly.

"Harry, what’re we—"        

"SHH!" Harry and I exclaimed ourselves.

"You hear it—"

"Ronald!" I hissed at him.      

I strained my ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, I heard the voice:  _"... I smell blood... I SMELL BLOOD!"_

My stomach lurched—        

"It’s going to kill someone!" Harry shouted, and ignoring Ron’s and Hermione’s bewildered faces, he ran up— pulling me along his side— the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his pounding footsteps— Harry and I hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Ron and Hermione panting behind us, not stopping until we turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.        

"Harry, Deli, what was that all about?" said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn’t hear anything..."

I turned around and as I saw it, my mouth fell open as Hermione gasped, pointing down the corridor.

"Look!"        

Something was shining on the wall ahead. We approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED._

_ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE_       

"What’s that thing— hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As we edged nearer, I almost slipped— there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Ron and Hermione grabbed Harry and I, and we inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All four of us realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash.

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.        

For a few seconds, they didn’t move. Then Ron said, "Let’s get out of here."

"Shouldn’t we try and help—" Harry began awkwardly.        

"Trust me," said Ron. "We don’t want to be found here."        

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told us that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where we stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.        

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.        

Then someone shouted through the quiet.        

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!"        

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat. Stupid kid...  

Now I really just want to rip his head off...


	8. Memory

"What’s going on here? What’s going on?"

Attracted no doubt by Malfoy’s shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.        

And his popping eyes fell on Harry. 

" _You!_ " he screeched. "You! You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll—"  

"Argus!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, Hermione and I and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.        

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Hawkins."        

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. "My office is nearest, Headmaster— just upstairs— please feel free—"        

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.         

The silent crowd parted to let us pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

As we entered Lockhart’s darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; I saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore lay Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.

The tip of Dumbledore’s long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris’s fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions.  

"It was definitely a curse that killed her— probably the Transmogrifian Torture— I’ve seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn’t there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her..."        

Lockhart’s comments were punctuated by Filch’s dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands. Much as I detested Filch, I couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as I felt for Harry; if Dumbledore believed Filch, he would be expelled for sure.  

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happened. She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.  

"... I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou," said Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full story’s in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once..."      

The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair net.        

At last Dumbledore straightened up. "She’s not dead, Argus," he said softly.        

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.  

"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why’s she all— all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified," I whispered. Dumbledore looked at me with a sad expression then smiled a small sad smile at me.

Lockhart said, "Ah! I thought so!" but of course we ignored him as everyone in the room turned to look at me.

"How did you know that?" Snape asked.

"Well, if she is not dead... then she is most likely petrified," I said softly, sympathetically patting Filch's back.

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Very well, Delilah. But as for how, I cannot say..."

"Ask  _him_!" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.        

"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced—"      

"He did it, he did it!" Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found— in my office— he knows I’m a— I’m a—" Filch’s face worked horribly. "He knows I’m a Squib!" he finished. A Squib? What on earth is that? Might as well add it to the list of words I don't know; girlfriend and now squib.  

"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry said loudly, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at him, including all the Lockharts on the walls. "And I don’t even know what a Squib is."  

"Rubbish!" snarled Filch. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"

"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Snape from the shadows, and my sense of foreboding increased; I was sure nothing Snape had to say was going to do Harry any good.  

"Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn’t he at the Halloween feast?"

"I was not exactly feeling well, so I stayed in my dorm. When I saw the time, I decided it was time to come down and join these three, though I did not know that the feast would already be ending," I said, and it wasn't completely a lie. I really didn't feel well enough to come down and when I finally did, that was when I had ran into the trio and we followed the voice till we came across the writing on the wall and then the other students joined us.    

Then, Harry, Ron and Hermione all launched into an explanation about the deathday party, adding the part where I had come down to join them. "... there were hundreds of ghosts, they’ll tell you we were there—"        

"But why not join the feast afterward?" said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Why go up to that corridor?"        

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry.

"Because— because—" Harry stuttered. I could hear his heart thumping very fast; something told me it would sound very far-fetched if he told them we had been led there by a bodiless voice no one but the both of us could hear.

"Because we were tired and wanted to go to bed," I piped in. Harry sent me a secretive thankful smile to which I secretly nodded.

"Without any supper?" said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face as I bit my lower lip; this man knows this place. "I didn’t think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."  

"We weren't hungry," said Ron loudly as his stomach gave a huge rumble.  I closed my eyes and sighed through my nose in exasperation.

Snape’s nasty smile widened.  

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest."

"Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn’t hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong, nor Hawkins."      

Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze probably made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed.  

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly.        

Snape looked furious.        

So did Filch.  

"My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping. "I want to see some punishment... Except for this girl," he added, motioning towards me.

"We will be able to cure her, Filch," I said patiently.

Grandpa D nodded in agreement. "Yes, indeed. Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep—"

"Excuse me," said Snape icily. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."

There was a very awkward pause.  

"You may go," Dumbledore said to Harry, Ron, Hermione and I.      

Harry grabbed my hand and with that, we went, as quickly as we could without actually running. When we were a floor up from Lockhart’s office, we turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind us. Harry squinted at our darkened faces.  

"D’you think I should have told them about that voice Deli and I heard?"  

"No," said Ron, without hesitation as I shook my head in agreement. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the wizarding world."

Something in Ron’s voice made Harry ask, "You do believe us, don’t you?"

"'Course I do," said Ron quickly. "But— you must admit it’s weird..."        

"I know it’s weird," said Harry. "The whole thing’s weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber Has Been Opened... What’s that supposed to mean?" I tended up at the mentioning of the Chamber and I think Harry noticed since he squeezed my hand gently as if to calm me down, but it didn't help much.

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," said Ron slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once... might’ve been Bill..."  

"And what on earth’s a Squib?" said Harry. Thank you! Finally someone asks.

To our surprise, Ron stifled a snigger.  

"Well— it’s not funny really— but as it’s Filch," he said. I raised an eyebrow at my redheaded friend. "A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn’t got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch’s trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much." Ron gave a satisfied smile. "He’s bitter."

A clock chimed somewhere.  

I leant my head closer to Harry's. "Midnight," I murmured into his ear, making him shiver.

He nodded. "We’d better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else."  

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone’s minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. I had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn’t guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly" and "looking happy."  

Ginny seemed very disturbed by Mrs. Norris’s fate. According to Ron, she was a great cat lover.  

"It is okay, Ginny. She is okay. She is going to be alright," I said awkwardly, trying to comfort Ginny. The fact that I'm still not a very sociable person makes things like comforting others quite... awkward.

Like with Ginny. I tried and re-tried to make her feel better, whispering soothing words to her, but she only kept crying at the fact that Mrs. Norris was hurt and tightened her hold around my waist. I wasn't so good at it, but at least I was better at it than Ron. He only made things worse.

"But you haven’t really got to know Mrs. Norris," Ron told her bracingly. "Honestly, we’re much better off without her." Ginny’s lip trembled. "Stuff like this doesn’t often happen at Hogwarts," Ron assured her. "They’ll catch the maniac who did it and have him out of here in no time. I just hope he’s got time to Petrify Filch before he’s expelled. I’m only joking—" Ron added hastily as Ginny blanched before running off to her dorm.  

"Oh, wow," I muttered sarcastically. "We  _really_  feel the love, Ronald."

"Just trying to help." He shrugged.

I turned to glare at him. "She is your sister. You could at least try a little harder than that," I hissed at him before stalking off towards my dorm.

It was quite coincidental how the whole writing happened right after I left Ginny's room that night. Now that I think of it, I had been speaking with the diary about the Chamber of secrets. Tom must have something to do about this. Instead of going to my room, I made a 'U' turn and went to find Ginny. Once I opened her door, she was already laying on her bunk bed, sound asleep. How could she be so tired? It's still morning.

I grabbed the diary from her nightstand and put it on the desk.  

I sighed and wrote, "Tom, it is me, Delilah." The words shone momentarily on the page and they sank without trace. Then, oozing back out of the page, in Ginny's own ink, came his reply.  

"Delilah, what a surprise. I'm so glad to talk to you again." These words, too, faded away, but not before I had started to scribble back. 

"I wrote for a reason, Tom. And I am pretty sure you know what that reason is."

I waited impatiently for Riddle’s reply.        

"You want to know about the Chamber of secrets."

I frowned. I  _did_  want to know more about it, but that wasn't my priority at the moment. "No. I already know enough about it. I want to know what you are doing to Ginny. She is not herself anymore. She is more jumpy, she is almost as pale as a ghost... I know you have something to do with it," I wrote.

"Yes, I admit. I have been doing... things."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you're not denying it," I scrawled.

"No," was all he replied.

I bit my lower lip and stared at the now blank page before writing, "Why are you doing this? What is your purpose?"

I turned to look at Ginny to see if she was still sleeping. I frowned when I saw she still hadn't woken up. Turning my attention back to the book, I noticed Tom had already written back.

"That is for me to know and for you to never find out, princess."

I glared at the book for a moment then sighed. "Fine, then. The petrifications and... killings are happening again now. It is nothing major as only a cat has been touched, but there is no doubt it will increase and hurt students as well. I have a hunch, but I am not exactly sure and no one else seems to know who is behind it. Who was it last time?"

"I can show you, if you like," came Riddle’s reply. "You don’t have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him."

I hesitated, the quill suspended over the diary. What did Riddle mean? How could I be taken inside somebody else’s memory? I glanced nervously at the door to the dormitory, which was growing dark. When I looked back at the diary, I saw fresh words forming.        

"Let me show you."

I paused for a fraction of a second and then wrote two letters.

"OK."  

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Mouth hanging open, I saw that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen. My hands trembling slightly, I raised the book to press my eye against the little window, and before I knew what was happening, I was tilting forward; the window was widening, I felt my body leave the chair, and I was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow.  

_I felt my feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around me came suddenly into focus._

_I knew immediately where I was. This circular room with the sleeping portraits was Dumbledore’s office— but it wasn’t Dumbledore who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, frail-looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. I had never seen this man before._

_"I... I... excuse me, sir but..." I started shakily._

_But the wizard didn’t look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly. I drew nearer to his desk and stammered, "Er— I will just go, shall I?"_

_Still the wizard ignored him. He didn’t seem even to have heard me. "Sorry I disturbed you. I will go now," I half-shouted, but then I remembered what Tom had told me. This was a memory. No one could hear or see me._

_Sure enough, the wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past me without glancing at me, and went to draw the curtains at his window. The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door. I looked around the office. No Fawkes the phoenix— no whirring silver contraptions. This was Hogwarts as Riddle had known it, meaning that this unknown wizard was Headmaster, not Dumbledore, and I was little more than a phantom, completely invisible to the people of fifty years ago._

_There was a knock on the office door._

_"Enter," said the old wizard in a feeble voice._

_A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect’s badge was glinting on his chest. He was much taller than me, but he, like Harry, had jet-black hair._

_"Ah, Riddle," said the Headmaster._

_"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle. He looked nervous._

_"Sit down," said Dippet. "I’ve just been reading the letter you sent me."_

_"Oh," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly._

_"My dear boy," said Dippet kindly, "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"_

_"No," said Riddle at once. "I’d much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that— to that—"_

_"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" said Dippet curiously._

_"Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly._

_"You are Muggle-born?"_

_"Half-blood, sir," said Riddle. "Muggle father, witch mother."_

_"And are both your parents—"_

_"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me— Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."_

_Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically._

_"The thing is, Tom," he sighed, "Special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances..."_

_"You mean all these attacks, sir?" said Riddle, and my heart leapt, and I moved closer, scared of missing anything._

_"Precisely," said the headmaster. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy... the death of that poor little girl... You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the— er— source of all this unpleasantness..."_

_Riddle’s eyes had widened. "Sir— if the person was caught— if it all stopped—"_

_"What do you mean?" said Dippet with a squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair. "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"_

_"No, sir," said Riddle quickly. But I was sure it was the same sort of 'no' that Harry had given Dumbledore, a while back._

_Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed. "You may go, Tom..."_

_Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. I followed him._

_Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next to the gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and so did I, watching him. I could tell that Riddle was doing some serious thinking. He was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed._

_Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off, me gliding noiselessly behind him. We didn’t see another person until we reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard with long, sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble staircase._

_"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?" I gaped at the wizard. He was none other than a fifty-year-younger Dumbledore._

_"I had to see the headmaster, sir," said Riddle._

_"Well, hurry off to bed," said Dumbledore, giving Riddle exactly the kind of penetrating stare I knew so well. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since..."_

_He sighed heavily, bade Riddle good night, and strode off. I watched as Riddle watched him walk out of sight and then, moving quickly, headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, with me in hot pursuit._

_But to my disappointment, Riddle led me not into a hidden passageway or a secret tunnel but to the very dungeon in which I had Potions with Uncle Sev. The torches hadn’t been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door almost closed, I could only just see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside._

_It felt to me that we were there for at least an hour. All I could see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through the crack, waiting like a statue. And just when I had stopped feeling expectant and tense and started wishing I could return to the present, I heard something move beyond the door. Someone was creeping along the passage. I heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where Riddle and I were hidden. Riddle, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, I followed closely behind him. For perhaps five minutes we followed the footsteps, until Riddle stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new noises. I heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper._

_"C’mon... gotta get yeh outta here... C’mon now... in the box..."_

_There was something familiar about that voice..._

_Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner. I stepped out behind him. I could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box next to it._

_"Evening, Rubeus," said Riddle sharply._

_The boy slammed the door shut and stood up. "What yer doin’ down here, Tom?"_

_Riddle stepped closer._

_"It’s all over," he said. "I’m going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They’re talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don’t stop."_

_"‘N at d’yeh—"_

_"I don’t think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don’t make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and—"_

_"It never killed no one!" said the large boy, backing against the closed door. From behind him, I could hear a funny rustling and clicking._

_"Come on, Rubeus," said Riddle, moving yet closer. "The dead girl’s parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered..."_

_"It wasn’t him!" roared the boy, his voice echoing in the dark passage. "He wouldn’! He never!"_

_"Stand aside," said Riddle, drawing out his wand._

_His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open with such force it knocked him into the wall opposite. And out of it came something that made me let out a long, piercing scream unheard by anyone._

_A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam of many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers— Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The thing bowled him over as it scuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but the huge boy leapt on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down, yelling, "NOOOOOO!"_

_The scene whirled, the darkness became complete._

I felt myself falling and, with a crash, I landed spread-eagled on the floor beside Ginny's desk in the Gryffindor dormitory, Riddle’s diary lying open on my stomach. Before I had had time to regain my breath, the dormitory door opened and Ginny rushed in.  

"There you are," she said, sighing in relief. I sat up. I was sweating and shaking.  

"What’s up?" she asked, looking at me with concern. I glared at her, making her bow her head down in shame.

"Ginnerva Weasley, how could you not tell me?" I demanded, standing up and marching towards her, towering over her.

"I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "I was scared."

I stared at her for a few seconds before my expression softened. "I told you to come to me whenever anything was wrong, Ginny."

She threw her arms around my waist and hugged me. "I know, I'm sorry."

I wrapped my arms around her and gently squeezed her. "It is alright, but you have to be more careful. Do not touch that book, okay? We will figure out later how to get rid of it, but in the meanwhile, do not do anything with it. Do not write in it, do not touch it, understand?"

She nodded as I released her. "Now come on, we still have classes to attend."

She nodded again, but then stopped before I could even take one step towards the door. "What happened?"

I bit my lower lip then sighed. "He showed me a memory of the last time the Chamber had been opened... in his time."

She furrowed her brows. "Did it show who was the last person?"

I shook my head. "No. But... Hagrid... Tom framed Hagrid of opening the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago." Ginny gasped. "Yes, Ginny. That is why I do not want you anywhere near that book. Last time you showed it to me... it could not have been a coincidence that a few minutes later, there was the writing on the wall. I think he is using you to open it..."

Her eyes widened. "Th-that would explain why I've been blacking out a lot lately," she murmured before looking up at me with teary eyes. "Deli, I'm scared."

I pulled her into another hug. "Shh, do not worry, okay? I will not let anything happen to you, alright?" She nodded. "Good, then we must go."

With that, we calmly made our way down to the Common room, where I had left my bag. After grabbing it an slinging it over my shoulder, Ginny and I made our way to the Great Hall.

Harry had been held back in Potions, where Snape had made him stay behind to scrape tubeworms off the desks. After a hurried lunch, he and I went upstairs to meet Ron in the library, and saw Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy from Herbology, coming toward us. Harry had just opened his mouth to say hello when Justin caught sight of him, turned abruptly, and sped off in the opposite direction.  

I frowned. " _What was that about?_ " I asked through his mind. Harry shrugged, grabbed my hand and pulled me along his side as we continued our way.

We found Ron at the back of the library, measuring his History of Magic homework. Professor Binns had asked for a three foot long composition on "The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards."

"I don’t believe it, I’m still eight inches short said Ron furiously, letting go of his parchment, which sprang back into a roll. “And Hermione’s done four feet seven inches and her writing’s tiny."

"Where is she?" asked Harry, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework.        

"Somewhere over there," said Ron, pointing along the shelves. "Looking for another book. I think she’s trying to read the whole library before Christmas."        

Harry told Ron about Justin Finch-Fletchley running away from him.        

"Dunno why you care. I thought he was a bit of an idiot," said Ron, scribbling away, making his writing as large as possible. "All that junk about Lockhart being so great—"

Hermione emerged from between the bookshelves. She looked irritable and at last seemed ready to talk to us.        

"All the copies of Hogwarts, A History have been taken out," she said, sitting down next to Harry and I. "And there’s a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn’t left my copy at home, but I couldn’t fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books."      

I got my white board and marker out of my bag and wrote, " _Why do you want it?_ " before showing it to her.

She read it then pouted. "The same reason everyone else wants it," said Hermione, "to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."

"What’s that?" said Harry quickly.        

"That’s just it. I can’t remember," said Hermione, biting her lip. She looked at me expectantly but I quickly shook my head. I knew things, but I still wasn't one hundred percent sure about my suspicions. "And I can’t find the story anywhere else—"      

"Hermione, Deli... can one of you let me read your composition," said Ron desperately, checking his watch.  

I rolled my eyes.  _He_  really needs to sort his priorities. "No, we won’t," said Hermione, suddenly severe. "You’ve had ten days to finish it—"      

"I only need another two inches, come on—"        

The bell rang. Ron and Hermione led the way to History of Magic, bickering.  

As usual...


	9. Suspicions and ideas

History of Magic was the dullest subject on our schedule. Professor Binns, who taught it, was our only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his classes was his entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people said he hadn’t noticed he was dead. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staff room fire; his routine had not varied in the slightest since.  

Today was as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been speaking for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before. Hermione put up her hand.  

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed. No one has ever raised their hands up to ask him anything,  _ever_ , so you would understand why it shocked everyone in the classroom, especially the teacher.

"Miss — er —?" See what I mean? He doesn't even know our names.      

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.        

Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Lavender Brown’s head came up off her arms and Neville Longbottom’s elbow slipped off his desk.     

Professor Binns blinked.        

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk slipping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers—"      

He stuttered to a halt. This time, I shocked everyone by raising my hand. Not only because it was in this class, but because I  _never_  raised my hand. The only time was in our first class with Lockhart, but that was it.

"Yes, Miss— er—?"      

"Hawkins. But, please, sir, do legends not always have a basis in fact?"      

Professor Binns was looking at me in such amazement, even though I was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead, but even so, I needed to know.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione and I as though he had never seen students properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very  _sensational_ , even  _ludicrous_  tale—"

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns’ every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. I could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.        

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see... the Chamber of Secrets... You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago— the precise date is uncertain— by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.        

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more  _selective_  about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.  

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."      

There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn’t the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns’ classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.  

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."      

Hermione’s hand was back in the air.        

"Sir— what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"      

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.        

The class exchanged nervous looks.        

"I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."      

"But, sir," said Seamus Finnegan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin’s true heir, no one else  _would_  be able to find it, would they?"      

"Nonsense, O’Flaherty," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven’t found the thing—"      

"But, Professor," piped up Parvati Patil, "you’d probably have to use Dark Magic to open it—"      

"Just because a wizard  _doesn’t_  use Dark Magic doesn’t mean he  _can’t_ , Miss Pennyfeather," snapped Professor Binns. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore—"

"But maybe you’ve got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn’t—" began Dean Thomas, but Professor Binns had had enough.        

"That will do," he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to  _history_ , to solid, believable, verifiable  _fact_!"

And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual torpor.  

"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," Ron told Harry and Hermione as they fought their way through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson to drop off their bags before dinner. "But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn’t be in his house if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I’d’ve got the train straight back home..."      

Hermione nodded fervently, but Harry and I didn’t say anything. My stomach had just dropped unpleasantly.        

I had never told Ron, Harry and Hermione that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting me in Slytherin... well in every house, might I add. I wonder where I would've been placed if I wasn't a shifter. The only reason he let me choose was because I carry the blood of a true Alpha. I could remember, as though it were yesterday, the small voice that had spoken in my ear when I'd placed the hat on my head a year before: You carry the blood of an Alpha, Delilah. You possess the qualities of each house, but it's hard to choose one in particular because of you being an Alpha. Alphas don't like to have decisions made for them. It is against  _every_  natural law...

But then there was also Harry. The hat had also considered putting him in Slytherin: You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that...

But Harry, who had already heard of Slytherin House’s reputation for turning out Dark wizards, had thought desperately, Not Slytherin! and the hat had said, Oh, well, if you’re sure... better be Gryffindor... While I got to choose... but what if I didn't have to?      

As we were shunted along in the throng, Colin Creevey went past.        

"Hiya, Harry! Hiya, Delilah!"  I simply nodded while Harry groaned before automatically replying, "Hullo, Colin."        

"Harry— Harry— a boy in my class has been saying you’re—"

But Colin was so small he couldn’t fight against the tide of people bearing him toward the Great Hall; they heard him squeak, "See you, Harry!" and he was gone.        

"What’s a boy in his class saying about you?" Hermione wondered.        

"That I’m Slytherin’s heir, I expect," Harry said. I frowned as I suddenly remembered the way Justin Finch-Fletchley had run away from him at lunchtime.        

"People here’ll believe anything," Ron said in disgust.        

The crowd thinned and we were able to climb the next staircase without difficulty.        

"D’you really think there’s a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked Hermione and I.        

I bit my lower lip and narrowed my eyes, but didn't say anything.

"I don’t know," Hermione said, frowning. "Dumbledore couldn’t cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be— well— human."

As she spoke, we turned a corner and found ourselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. We stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message "The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened."        

"That’s where Filch has been keeping guard," Ron muttered.        

We looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.        

"Can’t hurt to have a poke around," said Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues. I started shaking and nervously glancing down the hallway; I didn't want to be here, I wanted to get out, but I knew I wouldn't be able to if that meant leaving Harry and the others unprotected.

"Scorch marks!" he said. "Here— and here—"        

"Come and look at this!" said Hermione. "This is funny..."        

I wheeled around and followed Harry who had just gotten up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside. I frowned and started to think... could this have anything to do with the creature Hagrid was trying to protect fifty years ago?      

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" Hermione asked wonderingly.        

"No," said Harry, "have you, Deli?" I shook my head. "How about you Ron? Ron?"        

We turned to look at Ron who was standing well back and seemed to be fighting the impulse to run.        

"What’s up?" said Harry.        

I grabbed Harry's hand and whispered, "I think he does not like spiders," making Ron nod stiffly.

"I never knew that," said Hermione, looking at Ron in surprise. "You’ve used spiders in Potions loads of times..."        

"I don’t mind them dead," said Ron, who was carefully looking anywhere but at the window. "I just don’t like the way they move..."        

Hermione giggled and I couldn't help but smile a bit at that.

"It’s not funny," said Ron, fiercely. "If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my— my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick… You wouldn’t like them either if you’d been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and..."

He broke off, shuddering. Hermione was obviously still trying not to laugh.

Harry said, "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone’s mopped it up."

"It was about here," said Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch’s chair and pointing. "Level with this door."

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he’d been burned.        

"What’s the matter?" said Harry.        

"Can’t go in there," said Ron gruffly. "That’s a girls’ toilet."

I rolled my eyes, let go of Harry's hand and walked over to Ron to stand beside him. " _Really, Ron? Really?_ " I thought to him.        

Hermione walked up and stood beside me. "Oh, Ron, there won’t be anyone in there," she said. "That’s Moaning Myrtle’s place. Come on, let’s have a look."       

And ignoring the large OUT OF ORDER sign, she opened the door.        

It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom I had ever set foot in, but it wasn't my first time in here and neither was it Hermione's, so we were used to it. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.        

Hermione put her fingers to her lips and looked over at me startled. As confused as her, I shrugged and set off toward the end stall with her by my side. When we both reached it Hermione said, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"        

Harry and Ron went to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.        

"This is a girls’ bathroom," she said, eyeing Ron and Harry suspiciously. "They’re not girls."        

"No," Hermione agreed. "I just wanted to show them how er— nice it is in here."        

She waved vaguely at the dirty old mirror and the damp floor.        

"Ask her if she saw anything," Harry mouthed at us.

I face-palmed myself and hissed in his mind, " _She can hear you, you know?_ " making him slightly jump.

"What are you whispering?" said Myrtle, staring at him.        

"Nothing," said Harry quickly. "We wanted to ask—"        

"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" said Myrtle, in a voice choked with tears. "At least Deli understands. I  _do_  have feelings, you know, even if I am dead—"

"Myrtle, no one wants to upset you," said Hermione. "Harry only—"        

"No one wants to upset me! That’s a good one!" howled Myrtle. "My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!"

"We wanted to ask you if you’ve seen anything funny lately," said Hermione quickly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween."        

"Did you see anyone near here that night?" said Harry.        

"I wasn’t paying attention," said Myrtle dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I’m— that I’m—"

"Already dead," said Ron helpfully.

"Ron!" I exclaimed myself, whacking him on the back of his head.      

Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight, although from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.        

Harry and Ron stood with their mouths open, but I groaned as Hermione shrugged wearily and said, "Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle... Come on, let’s go."

Harry had barely closed the door on Myrtle’s gurgling sobs when a loud voice made all four of us jump.        

"RON!"        

Percy Weasley had stopped dead at the head of the stairs, prefect badge agleam, an expression of complete shock on his face.        

"That’s a girls’ bathroom!" he gasped. "What were you —"        

"Just having a look around," Ron shrugged. "Clues, you know—"        

Percy swelled in a manner that somehow reminded me forcefully of Mrs. Weasley.        

"Get— away— from— there—" Percy said, striding toward us and starting to bustle us along, flapping his arms. "Don’t you care what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone’s at dinner—"        

"Why shouldn’t we be here?" said Ron hotly, stopping short and glaring at Percy. "Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!"        

"That’s what I told Ginny," said Percy fiercely, "but she still seems to think you’re going to be expelled, I’ve never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out, you might think of her, all the first years are thoroughly overexcited by this business—"        

"You don’t care about Ginny," said Ron, whose ears were now reddening. "You’re just worried I’m going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy—"        

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Percy said tersely, fingering his prefect badge. "And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more detective work, or I’ll write to Mum!"        

And he strode off, the back of his neck as red as Ron’s ears.    

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I chose seats as far as possible from Percy in the common room that night. Ron was still in a very bad temper and kept blotting his Charms homework. When he reached absently for his wand to remove the smudges, it ignited the parchment. Fuming almost as much as his homework, Ron slammed The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 shut. To Harry’s and my surprise, Hermione followed suit.        

"Who can it be, though?" she said in a quiet voice, as though continuing a conversation we had just been having. "Who’d want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts'?"        

"Let’s think," said Ron in mock puzzlement. "Who do we know who thinks muggleborns are scum?”        

He looked at Hermione. Hermione looked back, unconvinced.        

"If you’re talking about Malfoy—"

"Of course I am!" said Ron. "You heard him— ‘You’ll be next, Mudbloods!’— come on, you’ve only got to look at his foul rat face to know it’s him—"        

"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" said Hermione skeptically.        

"Look at his family," said Harry, closing his books, too. "The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin; he’s always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin’s descendants. His father’s definitely evil enough."        

"They could’ve had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries!" said Ron. "Handing it down, father to son..."

"Well," said Hermione cautiously, "I suppose it’s possible..."        

"But how do we prove it?" said Harry darkly.        

"There might be a way," said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice still further with a quick glance across the room at Percy. "Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We’d be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect—"

"If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won’t you?" said Ron irritably.        

"All right," said Hermione coldly. "What we’d need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it’s us."

"But that’s impossible," Harry said as Ron laughed. My eyes widened as I understood exactly what she meant.

I smiled at her idea even though I didn't quite like it. "No, it is not," I piped in, making them slightly jump; I guess they're still no used to hearing me talk. "All we would need would be some Polyjuice Potion." Hermione nodded, grinning at me.

"What’s that?" said Ron and Harry together.        

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago—"

"D’you think we’ve got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?" Ron muttered.        

I rolled my eyes this time before saying, "It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! You guys could change into three of the Slytherins. No one would know it was you. Malfoy would probably tell you anything. He is probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him."

"Us three? What about you?" Harry asked.

My eyes widened again in disbelief before I rapidly shook my head. "No way am I taking  _any_  potion. And besides, I do not tolerate... dark places such as dungeons which is where the Slytherin Common room is. I would rather... stay somewhere... open than... closed?" I lied, though the last part came out a bit as a question. It's true that I didn't tolerate close spaces because that always brought back memories of my time as Christophe's... slave.

"This Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me," said Ron, frowning. "What if we were stuck looking like three of the Slytherins forever?"

"It wears off after a while," said Hermione, waving her hand impatiently. "But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called Moste Potente Potions and it’s bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."

There was only one way to get out a book from the Restricted Section: You needed a signed note of permission from a teacher.

"Hard to see why we’d want the book, really," said Ron, "if we weren’t going to try and make one of the potions."

"I think," said Hermione, "that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance..."

"Oh, come on, no teacher’s going to fall for that," said Ron. "They’d have to be really thick..."

Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his books to us, and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. He usually picked Harry or me to help him with these reconstructions; so far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and then I was forced to play a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him. I hated the idea of acting as one of my natural enemies.      

I was hauled to the front of the class during our very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting as a werewolf. I was fuming, enraged by that idea and had to fight the urge to strangle Gilderoy as just the mention of the character brought back the awful memories from my past. If I hadn’t had a very good reason for keeping Lockhart in a good mood and for getting over this quickly, I would have refused to do it.         

"Nice loud howl, Delilah." I growled, literally... "— uh... not exactly a howl, but good enough— and then, if you’ll believe it, I pounced— like this— slammed him to the floor— thus with one hand," I rolled my eyes, "I managed to hold him down— with my other, I put my wand to his throat— I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm— he let out a piteous moan— go on, Delilah," I looked at him weirdly, but did it anyway, to my great embarrassment... "— higher than that— good— the fur vanished— the fangs shrank— and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective— and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."      

The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.        

"Homework— compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"      

The class began to leave. I returned to the back of the room, where Harry, Ron and Hermione were waiting.        

"Ready?" Harry muttered, taking my hand.      

"Wait till everyone’s gone," said Hermione nervously. "All right..."      

She approached Lockhart’s desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, Harry, Ron and I right behind her.        

"Er— Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to— to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading." She held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly. "But the thing is, it’s in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it— I’m sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms."

"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" said Lockhart, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it?"      

"Oh, yes," said Hermione eagerly. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer—"

"Well, I’m sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year a little extra help," said Lockhart warmly, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill.

"Yes, nice, isn’t it?" he said, misreading the revolted look on Ron’s face. "I usually save it for book-signings." He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Hermione.        

"So, Harry, Delilah," said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. "Tomorrow’s the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you’re both  _very_  useful players. I was a Seeker, too. Tried out for Chaser at first but... anyhow! I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don’t hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players..."      

Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat, quickly grabbed my hand and then we both hurried off after Ron and Hermione.        

"I don’t believe it," he said as the four of us examined the signature on the note. "He didn’t even look at the book we wanted."      

"That’s because he’s a brainless git," said Ron. "But who cares, we’ve got what we needed—"

"He is not a brainless git," said Hermione shrilly as we half ran toward the library.        

"Just because he said you were the best student of the year—"        

They dropped their voices as we entered the muffled stillness of the library. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritable woman who looked like an underfed vulture.

"Moste Potente Potions?" she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione; but Hermione wouldn’t let go.        

"I was wondering if I could keep it," she said breathlessly.        

"Oh, come on," said Ron, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it at Madam Pince. "We’ll get you another autograph. Lockhart’ll sign anything if it stands still long enough."

Madam Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test. She stalked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and moldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully into her bag and we left, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty.        

Five minutes later, we were barricaded in Moaning Myrtle’s out-of-order bathroom once again.  

Hermione had overridden Ron’s objections by pointing out that it was the last place anyone in their right minds would go, so we were guaranteed some privacy. Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her stall, but we were ignoring her, and she us.        

Hermione opened Moste Potente Potions carefully, and the four of us bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from a glance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very unpleasant illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head.        

"Here it is," said Hermione excitedly as she found the page headed The Polyjuice Potion. It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people. I seriously started to get worried about my three friends and sincerely hoped the artist had imagined the looks of intense pain on the faces he drew. But that wasn't the only thing that worried me; the potion seemed to be very a complicated one.

"This is the most complicated potion I have ever seen," I said as we scanned the recipe.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass," she murmured, running her finger down the list of ingredients. "Well, they’re easy enough, they’re in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves... Oooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn— don’t know where we’re going to get that— shredded skin of a boomslang— that’ll be tricky, too and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into."        

"Excuse me?" said Ron sharply. "What d’you mean, a bit of whoever we’re changing into? I’m drinking nothing with Crabbe’s toenails in it—"        

Hermione continued as though she hadn’t heard him.        

"We don’t have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last..."        

Ron turned, speechless, to me, then to Harry, who had another worry.        

"D’you realize how much we’re going to have to steal, Hermione? Deli? Shredded skin of a boomslang, that’s definitely not in the students’ cupboard. What’re we going to do, break into Snape’s private stores? I don’t know if this is a good idea..."        

Hermione shut the book with a snap.        

"Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine," she said. There were bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than usual. "I don’t want to break rules, you know. I think threatening muggleborns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don’t want to find out if it’s Malfoy, I’ll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in."        

"I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be persuading us to break rules," said Ron. "All right, we’ll do it. But not toenails, okay?" I rolled my eyes as he shuddered at the mere thought.

"How long will it take to make, anyway?" said Harry as I took the book from Hermione and it again.

"Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days..." Hermione started, looking at me.

"I would say it would be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients," I said. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"A month?" said Ron. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!"

But Hermione’s eyes narrowed dangerously again, and he added swiftly, "But it’s the best plan we’ve got, so full steam ahead, I say."

However, while Hermione was checking that the coast was clear for them to leave the bathroom, Ron muttered to Harry and I, "It’ll be a lot less hassle if either of you both can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow."


	10. I really hate Bludgers

_His bright green eyes were locked on my face and mine on his. I realized his body had been shaking, but then has come to a stop once he looked at me._  

_There was a shift in my own small body; heat flooding through me, but it was a strange kind of heat—not a burning._

_It was a glowing..._

I woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while, thinking that dream I had last night. I didn't understand why I was dreaming about him now, after so long— after so many years. Did that mean anything? It hurt a lot... just thinking about him.... about them and how I left them to die that night. I might have been only two years old at the time. I might have not even shifted into my first soul animal yet, but I was strong, or at least as strong as my father taught me to be. I could've at least fought... I mean, I  _did_  survive the killing curse when I was only a few months old, and then again last year. I did do brave things— putting myself in front of Harry so he wouldn't end up as a double Horcrux or something, flying in front of every Bludger that was about to attack him, at the chessboard, with the troll... So why couldn't I be brave enough to object my mother's demand and got to help him.

I sighed. Maybe my grandmother was right— everything happens for a reason.

I signed again then rolled onto my side, only to have my face buried into something fury. I laughed as I saw Thunder yawn and shook my head. I kissed my little husky then my eyes widened when I remembered what day it was today. I quickly shot out of bed and ran to the bathroom to take a quick shower, thinking about the coming Quidditch match. Now that I thought about it, I was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of facing a team mounted on the fastest racing brooms gold could buy. I had never wanted to beat Slytherin so badly. After half an hour of taking a cold shower with my insides churning, I got out, dressed, fed Atlas and Thunder, and went down to breakfast early, where I found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table, all looking uptight and not speaking much. I frowned and just as I stepped forward, I felt a hand grab my own. I looked back and slightly smiled a small smile at Harry before pulling him towards the team.

As eleven o’clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron and Hermione came hurrying over to wish Harry and I good luck as we entered the locker rooms. The team pulled on their scarlet Gryffindor robes, then sat down to listen to Wood’s usual pre-match pep talk.        

"Slytherin has better brooms than us," he began. "No point denying it. But we’ve got better people on our brooms. We’ve trained harder than they have, we’ve been flying in all weathers—"

"Too true," muttered George Weasley. "I haven’t been properly dry since August."

"— and we’re going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team."      

Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harry.        

"It’ll be down to you, Harry, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father, you too, Deli. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we’ve got to win today, we’ve got to." My eyes slightly widened before they narrowed into a glare towards Wood. I mean seriously? 'Get the Snitch or die trying'? Who says that to their twelve year old teammate?    

"So no pressure, Harry," said Fred, winking at him.  

Wow. He really knows how to make it better, doesn't he? That was  _so_  encouraging, way more encouraging than Wood's demand. Note the sarcasm I  _rarely_  use. I groaned and slammed my head against my locker, slightly denting it.

"Thank you, Fred. That was very enlightening of you," I muttered sarcastically.

The twins laughed before each kissing my cheek and saying, "Good luck, Lee-lee," at the same time, making me sigh and shake my head.      

As we walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted us; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.        

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three... two... one..."  

With a roar from the crowd to speed us upward, the sixteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of us squinting around for the Snitch.

"All right there, Scarhead?" I heard Malfoy yell, shooting underneath Harry as though to show off the speed of his broom. Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him; he avoided it so narrowly that it seemed it would have thrown his head off, merely ruffling his hair as it passed.

"Close one, Harry!" I heard George say, streaking past Harry with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. I saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for... me. What the bloody hell is wrong  _this_  time?

I dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head, this time. Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the pitch. From where I was, I could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. Really, what was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on two players like this; it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible...

Fred was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.

"Gotcha!" Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attracted to both Harry and I, as I had just caught the Quaffle and was about to shoot it through hoop, the Bludger pelted after me once more and I was forced to fly off at full speed, passing it to Angelina who missed. It had started to rain; I felt heavy drops fall onto my face, splattering onto my cheeks, making my long bangs fall into my eyes. I didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until I heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero."

The Slytherins' superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to now knock Harry out of the air again. Fred and George were flying so close to him on either side that Harry probably could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.

Frustrated, I quickly pushed my bangs away from my face and looked around for the bloody Bludger, and a Quaffle to hopefully make a few points. The Bludger was coming towards me as soon as I had caught sight of Kathie who was flying towards me with a Quaffle. She threw it in my direction, and even though she was quite far and there was a bigger chance for Adrian Pucey, from the Slytherin Team, to catch it since he was getting closer to it, I decided I had to act.

I quickly hooked a leg on my broom and swung down, grabbing it as I swung back up with it hooked under my arm. I heard gasps and cheers from the crowd.

"Hawkins' back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes— she's really flying— dodges a speeding Bludger— the goal posts are ahead— come on, now, Delilah— Keeper Bletchley dives— misses— GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins the moment I threw the Quaffle through a hoop. Once I had the Quaffle again, I pretended to throw it to the left, then quickly threw it to the right hoop again.

"And Lee-lee— I mean Delilah scores again! Another ten points to Gryffindor!" The crowd cheered and I couldn't help but fist pump the air for only a second before diving as the crazy Bludger decided to come for me again.

Fred was now flying so close to me, leaving George to look after Harry. I was flattered that they cared about me, but now was not the time; I need to keep a look out for Harry and the rogue Bludger. Somehow, through my dive, I ended up with one of the Quaffles, but then, without me getting a forewarning, something... familiar slammed against my right shoulder, dislocating it... again. I didn't let go of the Quaffle, though. I held it tight in my good arm and scored another ten points for Gryffindor before flying to a corner of the field, panting. I touched my shoulder gently but growled and quickly put my hand back on my broom. It was only dislocated, but it still hurt like hell.

It was now, as I looked down at my feet, that I realized I was pretty high up in the sky and that didn't make me feel the slightest bit better when I usually found myself being injured while playing Quidditch. It made me want to jump down— I didn't really care if I was flying about sixty feet above the ground— run into a forest and shift. That's what I need. I haven't shifted into either of my soul animals since I left home to come here... and  _that's_  been a while.

I had barely looked up when the Bludger hit me again, making me and my broom spin down quickly, nearly hitting the ground, but I tightened my grip on my broomstick and made it stop spinning. As soon as I was in a steady enough position, I balanced myself on my broom without hands for a moment. I raised my left hand to my injured shoulder and took a deep breath before snapping it back into place, letting out a hiss of pain through my now clenched teeth.

Someone zoomed over too me so quickly that if I hadn't fastened my grip back onto my Nimbus, I would have fallen off. I looked up and saw Harry looking at me with a worried expression.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded. "Go back. You have to look for the Snitch. I will try to help Fred and George keep the Bludger away from you so you can—"

"Me? It came after you too and broke your shoulder!" Harry exclaimed himself.

I groaned and had to fight the urge to slap him so he would understand. "My shoulder is fine, Harry. Just go. I do not care if the Bludger is trying to kill me, I—"

"Watch out!"

WHAM.

I had ducked just in time as Fred had swung once again at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off again course.

"Someone’s— tampered— with— this— Bludger—" Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry and I who were side by side.

"We need time out," said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the Bludger breaking Harry’s nose at the same time.

Wood had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch’s whistle rang out and Harry, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.

"What’s going on?" said Wood as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. "We’re being flattened. If it wasn't for Deli, we'd be a dead carpet." I gave him a weird look. Carpets can't be dead, they're... carpets. But he ignored the look I was giving him and went on. "Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?"

"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry and Deli, Oliver," said George angrily. "Someone’s fixed it— it won’t leave them alone. It hasn’t gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it."

"But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch’s office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then..." said Wood, anxiously. Madam Hooch was walking toward us. Over her shoulder, I could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in Harry's direction, but they would instantly stop and look away when I would glare at them.

"Listen," said Harry as she came nearer and nearer, "with you two flying around us all the time, the only way I’m going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve and the only way Deli would be able to score is if she throws herself through the hoop with the Quaffle or something like that."

I looked at Harry in disbelief when he said that last part about me. "What?"

He ignored me and went on. "Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one."

Now I was getting really frustrated.

"Don’t be thick," said Fred. "It’ll take your head off."

Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys, to me.

"Oliver, this is insane," I said angrily. "You can not let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Why do we not ask for an inquiry..."

"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" said Harry.

"This is all your fault,"' George said angrily to Wood. "'Get the Snitch or die trying,' what a stupid thing to tell him—"

"Stop! Look, we’re not losing to Slytherin just because of a crazy Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!"

I growled loudly, making them turn to look at me in shock. "Ugh! Stop being so stubborn, Harry!" I said. "We are just trying to keep you from being decapitated!"

"Me? What about you?!"

"What about me?"

I looked at me as if I had gone mad or something. "It  _dislocated_  your shoulder!" he hissed.

I groaned. "My shoulder is perfectly  _fine_!" I shouted back. I moved my shoulder around, fighting back a few winces. "See? Perfectly fine." It was back into place from when I snapped it, but it still ached. I looked up from my shoulder and saw the team looking at me with their mouths hanging open except for Harry and the twins.

"Oh, stop looking at me like that. This is not the first time you have heard me speak," I snapped at them, making them look away awkwardly.

"Er... fine, but I don't need any protection!" Harry argued. "I'll be fine, Deli. It's just one rogue Bludger! What's the harm in that?"

I stared at him. "Being  _DECAPITATED_!"

"Me? What about you?!"

"Ugh! Really?! We have just gone through this!" I exclaimed myself.

Harry blushed and gave me a sheepish look. "Yeah... sorry. The same phrase kept popping into my head." I face-palmed myself. The nerve of this kid.

"Listen, Harry, I do not care if you think for one second that I will let that bloody Bludger or even a fly hurt you, because I will not, and I  _do_  remember making that clear last year before we confronted onion head to get the stone. And what happened to 'I bet we're all going to live until we're 200 years old and maybe even more'?"

His blush darkened. "I-I never said that."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You know, just because I am often in the hospital wing and unconscious when you go visit me there when I  _am_  there does not mean I can not hear speaking to me, Harry. Either way, that was out of context, but you will not be going out there unprotected. At least not on my watch... wait I do not have a watch... er... not on Fred's watch! Right, Fred?"

"Deli..." Harry groaned then turned to Wood once again. "Oliver, please! Tell them to leave me alone!"

Both of the twins rolled their eyes at Harry but nodded at me just as Madam Hooch had joined us.

"Ready to resume play?" she asked Wood.

Wood looked at the determined look on Harry’s face.

"All right," he said. "Fred, George, you heard Harry— leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his—"

"No," I said, making sure to at least try to use my Alpha tone— hopefully it would work. I guess it did work since I saw them slightly cringe. "Here is what we  _are_  going to do. Alicia, Angelina, Kathie, you girls will be doing as best as you can to score as much points as you can. When you make passes between each other or are about to shoot, make fake passes before you do the real thing. Oliver, make sure the Quaffles do not enter  _our_  hoops, Fred and George, make sure no one gets hit by any of the Bludgers. Got it?"

Angelina frowned. "Yeah, but... you..."

"What about you?" Alicia asked.

"What will you be doing?" Kathie added.

I swallowed hard and clenched my jaw. "The usual."

Harry furrowed his brows. "Which is?"

I gazed across the field towards the Slytherins and glared at their smirking faces. "Confront the  _antagonists_."

The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch’s whistle, I kicked hard into the air, before any of my teammates can protest and heard the telltale whoosh of the Bludger behind me. Higher and higher I climbed; I looped and swooped, spiraled, zigzagged, and rolled. Slightly dizzy, I nevertheless kept my eyes wide open, rain was splashing across my face and ran up my nostrils as I hung upside down, avoiding another fierce dive from the Bludger. I spun back upside right to have a better look, but it was hard as my hair had gone untied through my dives and was now sticking to my face.

"Delilah!" Alicia's voice rang through my ears. I turned just in time as the Quaffle was thrown towards me, but just as I had help my right arm out to catch it, something hit me, crushing my arm into the right side of my body. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in the right side of my body, I slid sideways on my rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, my right arm dangling useless at my side— the Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time zooming at my face— I swerved out of the way, switching the knee that I had crooked over it with my uninjured arm all the while gritting my teeth to stop myself from screaming out in pain. I needed to shift— it's the only way the pain would diminish and the only way I would quickly heal, but I can't do that in front of the entire school; they mustn't know what I am.

I was still hanging from my broom with one hand when I saw the Bludger chasing after Harry now. I used my strength to throw myself back onto it. I looked up at Harry and started to feel slightly panicked. There was a spell I could use to destroy it, but I forgot what it was.

I watched, frozen in panic, as the Bludger whooshed behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed; he looped and swooped, spiraled, zigzagged, and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open, rain was speckling his glasses and ran up his nostrils as he hung upside down, avoiding another fierce dive from the Bludger. I could hear laughter from the crowd; he did look very stupid, but the rogue Bludger was heavy and couldn’t change direction as quickly as Harry could; he began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goal posts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past Wood.

A distant whistling in my ear told me the Bludger had just missed him again; he turned right over and sped in the opposite direction.

"Training for the ballet, Potter?" I heard Malloy yell as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in midair to dodge the Bludger, and he fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him; and then, glaring back at Malfoy in hatred, I clearly saw what Harry saw— the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy’s left ear— and Malfoy, busy laughing at Harry, hadn’t seen it.

For an agonizing moment, Harry hung in midair, not daring to speed toward Malloy probably in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.

WHAM.

He had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had hit him at last, smashed into his elbow, and I could hear the bones in Harry's left arm break.

"Harry!" I cried out, than cursed under my breath. I needed to get the attention of the Bludger back on me, at least long enough for Harry to catch the snitch.

Looking dimly, probably dazed by the searing pain in his arm, he slid sideways on his rain-drenched broom just like I had, one knee still crooked over it, his right arm dangling useless at his side— the Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time zooming at his face— Harry swerved out of the way, one idea firmly lodged in his numb brain: get to Malfoy.

Through a haze of rain, he dived for the shimmering, sneering face below him and I could see its eyes widen with fear: Malfoy thought Harry was attacking him.

"What the—" he gasped, careening out of Harry’s way.

Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch; he fingers gracefully closed in on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping the broom with his legs, and there was a yell from the crowd below as he slowly started to make his way towards the ground. His arm was hanging at a very strange angle yet he focused on nothing other than the Snitch clutched in his good hand.  

"Aha," I heard him say vaguely. "We’ve won."        

In a sudden unseen movement, Harry started speeding toward the ground, but then I saw from the corner of my eye the rogue Bludger flying towards him. So instantly, like so many times before, I ignored the pain shooting through my right arm and made my way in between them, then, the next thing I knew, I was crash diving after hearing a  _very_  loud crack and a few people from the crowd gasping. After crash landing pretty hard, my body rolled all the while I was cringing and whimpering in pain; my bones were shattered on the right side of my body, I could feel it. I lifted my head and squinted my eyes, trying to see through the rain when suddenly my breath got caught up in my throat. Today is really not my day.

The Bludger had come back and flew down toward me. Just as it was about to hit me, I rolled to my side, letting out of gasp in pain. It came back again and I had to roll onto my injured side, making me scream in pain as it hit the ground. It came back a third time, but this time, I had to spread my legs so I wouldn't have to end up cutting them off. As it flew up and was about to come and try to hit me for a fourth time, I quickly brought my wand out with my left hand pointed it toward the Bludger, shouting,

"Finite incantatem!"

As soon as it exploded, I dropped my arm to my side in exhaustion, not caring that I dropped my wand in the process and looked to my left, only to find Harry lying down beside me, fainted. I kept looking at him— I know it's creepy, but deal with it— until he finally came around, rain falling on our faces, still lying on the field, and it was then, when I looked up, that I realized someone was leaning over us. I squinted my eyes, saw a glitter of teeth and groaned.

"Oh, no, not you," Harry moaned.        

"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around us. "Not to worry, Harry. I’m about to fix your arm. And you, Delilah... whatever you broke."      

"No!" said Harry. "I’ll keep it like this, thanks..."

"Amen," I muttered, trying to sit up, but only to end up falling back down, hissing in pain. Harry saw the state of pain I was in and tried to sit up to help me, but from the looks of it, the pain he felt was also terrible. We then heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.        

I groaned. "We don’t want a photo of this, Colin," Harry said loudly.        

"Lie back, Harry, I'm going to start with you," Lockhart said and what he probably thought was a soothing voice. To me it sounded like an 'I have no idea what I'm doing but I'm going to try it anyway' kind of voice. "It’s a simple charm I’ve used countless times—"      

"Why can’t we just go to the hospital wing?" said Harry through clenched teeth.  

"Yes, why can we not just go there? Seriously," I muttered under my breath.      

"They should really, Professor," said a muddy Wood, who couldn’t seem to help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. "Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I’d say—"

"One more word, Wood. Just one more and I will break your jaw with my good hand," I warned through my clenched teeth.      

Through the thicket of legs around Harry and I, I spotted Fred and George, wrestling the rogue Bludger into a box. It was still putting up a terrific fight.        

"Stand back," said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.        

"No— don't—" said Harry weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Harry’s arm.

Harry shut his eyes close in fear just as Lockhart muttered, "Brackium Emendo," a blue light flashing out of the tip of his wand. Once the light faded, my eyes widened in rage and disbelief— Harry's bones weren't broken, they were  _gone_. Literally.

"What have you done?!" I shrieked at him, while everyone looked at me questioningly. "You call yourself a teacher? Rule number one: know what the spell does before you cast it, you idiot!" From the corner of my eye I could see Ron, Dean and Seamus snickering— they still seemed confused though— and Snape giving me an approving nod.

He blushed and that only infuriated me even more. "Blush all you want, that  _definitely_  does not make you look cute." I growled.

"Ah," said Lockhart. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen." He turned Harry's arm around. "Er... But the point is," he paused, taking Harry's wrist and bending it like rubber towards his shoulder in a disgusting way, "you can't feel anymore pain... and the bones are no longer broken."

I stared at the man in disbelief. "That's because he doesn't have any bones left!" I exclaimed myself.

"First time she didn't speak properly," I heard Ron mutter, just as Lockhart started advancing towards me.

I quickly shook my head. "Oh, no! Someone get us out of here before this man ends up deboning me completely," I said loudly. The Weasley twins quickly came to help me while Ron and Hermione went to help Harry.

As Harry got to his feet, he took a deep breath he looked down at his right side. What he saw nearly made him pass out again. He was staring down at his arm with wide eyes; poking out of the end of his robes was what looked like a thick, flesh-colored rubber glove. He tried to move his fingers. Nothing happened.


	11. House elf, warnings and another petrification

Madam Pomfrey wasn’t at all pleased when we got to the hospital wing.  

"You will be able to, won’t you?" said Harry desperately.

"I’ll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pajamas. "You’ll have to stay the night..."  

Hermione waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry’s bed while Ron helped him into his pajamas and came over to help me into my own, pulling the curtain close around the both of us girls. It took a while longer to stuff my broken arm into a sleeve without making me cuss every second for putting too much pressure on the right side of my body. It took less time, yet a while to stuff Harry's rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve, or so said Ron.  

"How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?" Ron called. "If Harry had wanted deboning he would have asked."

"Anyone can make a mistake," said Hermione. "And it doesn’t hurt anymore, does it, Harry?"

"No," said Harry, getting into bed. "But it doesn’t do anything else either."

As he swung himself onto the bed, his arm flapped pointlessly.  

Madam Pomfrey came over to us. Madam Pomfrey was holding a large bottle of something labeled Skele-Gro.        

"You’re both in for a rough night," she said, pouring out a steaming beakerful and handing it to him. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business, Mr. Potter. And Miss Hawkins, your bones went threw a nasty impact as well and... oh, dear... how is that possible..."

She looked like she was about to faint when she touched the right side of my body, making me wince every now and then. I know what she felt; I was already healing.

As if to shake the daze away, she shook her head rapidly and handed me my cup of Skele-Gro. I glanced at the drink in disgust, not wanting to drink it as I already knew what it tasted like. From the looks of it, Harry didn't; he wouldn't stop grimacing all the while drinking the medicine.

Taking a deep breath, I brought the cup up to my lips and drank the Skele-Gro. It burned my mouth and throat as it went down, making me cough and splutter a bit— less than Harry. Still tut-tutting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, Madam Pomfrey retreated, leaving Ron and Hermione to help Harry and I gulp down some water.

"We won, though," said Ron, a grin breaking across his face. "That was some catch you made. Malfoy’s face... he looked ready to kill..."  

"I want to know how he fixed that Bludger," said Hermione darkly.  

"We can add that to the list of questions we’ll ask him when we’ve taken the Polyjuice Potion," said Harry, sinking back onto his pillows. "I hope it tastes better than this stuff..." Hermione and I shot each other knowing looks.

"If it’s got bits of Slytherins in it? You’ve got to be joking," said Ron.  

The door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived to see Harry.

"Unbelievable flying, Harry. And you too Lee-lee!" said George.

"Those dives and saves," Fred added.

"You're our hero!" both twins exclaimed themselves at the same time, making me crack a small smile.

Wood got closer to my bed and nodded in agreement. "You both were amazing, and that catch, Harry! Unbelievable! I’ve just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn’t seem too happy."

They had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice; they gathered around our beds and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, "This boy needs rest, he’s got thirty-three bones to regrow! And the girl has all the bones on the right side of her body to un-shatter! So out! OUT!" And Harry and I were left alone, with nothing to distract us from the stabbing pains in his limp arm and in the right side of my body.

Hours and hours later, I woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and gave a small yelp of pain: my bones were slowly starting to crack into their rightful places, it all felt full of large splinters. For a second, I thought that was what had woken him. Then, with a shiver running down my spine, I heard Harry whisper to me in a hoarse voice. 

"Lilly... Lilly, are you awake?" 

I rolled my eyes and mentally groaned. "I am now," I whispered back. "Unable to sleep?" I guessed, glancing at him through the darkness.

He shuddered. "Can't get that voice out of my head, and every time I barely fell asleep, I kept seeing..." 

"... the green light?" I asked softly. 

He took a deep breath before nodding, looking up at the ceiling. "Yeah." I bit my lower lip, thinking for a moment before turning to lay on the uninjured side of my body, slightly wincing, and moving a bit backwards, leaving enough space for him. 

"Come here," I said.

He turned to look at me and hesitated. "What?"

I rolled my eyes; I knew he heard me the first time. "Come here," I repeated.

He sat up, wincing a bit, and hesitated. "Are you sure?"

I smiled. "Yes, there is enough space for the both of us. Come on," I said, patting the free space beside me. He slowly got up then came over to lay down beside me, wrapping the blankets around the both of us. We were quiet for a moment, his uninjured arm wrapped around my shoulders and my head resting on his chest; we were really comfortable with just being beside each other, but I knew there was something bothering him.

"Tell me, Harry," I said softly. As I waited patiently for him to respond, I struggled a bit to match my usual quick breathing with his normal, slow heart beats, so the quick movement of my body caused by my fast breathing wouldn't hurt me so much; my arm was already healed, still aching but healed. All that was left was... well, the rest. I slowly looked up at Harry and felt myself break when I saw the sad look in his eyes.

He opened his mouth and closed it a few times before finally sighing. "I just don't understand why that's all I keep remembering— all I keep seeing in my dreams from that night... I wish I could— if I could only stop seeing it..."

I gave him a sad smile. "Time. You might never forget, but it will stop haunting you in time, Harry. The only reason you keep seeing, thinking or dreaming about it is because of all the questions you ask yourself and others, questions that have yet to be answered. I do not know why you are dreaming of that specific moment of your past— heck, it could have been the day we confronted the troll or Fluffy.... or Quirrell, but no, it is that night... but, my point is... that we see... dream about these things for a reason. And for now, we just need to learn how to embrace it at least until we know the 'why' in it. I do not know if what I said, made any sense to you, but it did to me. But right you need to sleep, okay?"

He hesitated before nodding and planting a soft kiss on my forehead. "Okay... I'll try."

I rolled my eyes and sighed before I started doing what I never thought I would do. I started singing.

_Just close your eyes, the sun is going down_  
  
You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now  
  
Come morning light  
  
You and I'll be safe and sound...

I looked up at him again and smiled a small smile when I saw him asleep before closing my eyes and letting the darkness take over me as well...

"You nearly got Ron and me expelled," I heard Harry tell someone fiercely. "You’d better get lost before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might strangle you."      

I let out a groan, but didn't open my eyes. "Harry, you will most certainly not harm Dobby," I moaned, snuggling deeper into my bed sheets, hissing every now and then in pain. God, I really should be more careful. "Whoever this Dobby is..."

"Dobby is used to death threats, Miss," a small voice said softly. "Dobby gets them five times a day at home."

That made me bolt upright, ignoring the pain in the right side of my body, only to see a little creature blowing his nose on a corner of a filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that I suddenly felt anger— I hadn't realized I felt until now— ebb away in spite of myself.        

"Er... what are doing— what is your name?" I asked softly, but cautiously. 

The little creature smiled a weakly at me. "Dobby, Miss. Dobby the House Elf," Dobby said happily.

I smiled at him. "Well I am Delilah. Delilah Hawkins. It is nice to meet you, mister," I replied kindly. House elves were good creatures and I hated to see them being enslaved since some of them were treated as badly as I had been, but compared to me, the worked because they wanted to even if they were badly treated.

"Oh!" Dobby instantly started crying again, leaving me to share a puzzled look with Harry.

"Oh... are you... is something wrong?" I asked.

"No, Miss, no. It's just... no one has ever called Dobby 'Mister'," Dobby croaked, blowing his nose onto a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore.

"Why do you wear that thing, Dobby?" I asked curiously. I knew house elves were never cared for enough to have different clothes, but even the ones working here at Hogwarts wore better things than filthy pillowcases.

"This, Miss?" said Dobby, plucking at the pillowcase. "'Tis a mark of the house-elf’s enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house forever."

Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make—"

"Your Bludger?" said Harry, anger rising once more. "What d’you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me and Deli?"

"Not kill you, sir, never kill you!" said Dobby, shocked. "Dobby wants to save Harry Potter’s and Delilah Hawkins' lives!"

"Wait, why me? You do not— we have only just met!" I said, puzzled.

"Miss Deli's life is as important and Mr. Harry Potter's life. And I assure you, Dobby only wanted to save you. Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here Miss! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter and Delilah Hawkins hurt enough to be sent home!"

"Oh, is that all?" said Harry angrily. "I don’t suppose you’re going to tell us why you wanted us sent home in pieces?"

"Ah, if Harry Potter and Deli Hawkins only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. "If they knew what they means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you both triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter and Delilah Hawkins survived, and the Dark Lord’s power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, Miss, and Harry Potter and Delilah Hawkins shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end... And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter and Delilah Hawkins stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more."      

Dobby froze, horrorstruck, then grabbed Harry’s water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross- eyed, muttering, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby..."

I looked at the house elf sadly. "Dobby, please. Stop hurting yourself," I said softly, but he did not listen, he kept scolding himself instead.

"So there is a Chamber of Secrets?" Harry whispered. "And did you say it’s been opened before? Tell me, Dobby!"

He seized the elf’s bony wrist as Dobby’s hand inched toward the water jug. "But I’m not Muggle-born— how can I be in danger from the Chamber?"      

"Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter and Delilah Hawkins must not be here when they happen— go home, Harry Potter, Delilah Hawkins, go home. Harry Potter and Delilah Hawkins must not meddle in this, ‘tis too dangerous—"

"Who is it, Dobby?" Harry said, keeping a firm hold on Dobby’s wrist to stop him from hitting himself with the water jug again. "Who’s opened it? Who opened it last time?"

My eyes widened as he asked that then I silently hoped Dobby wouldn't answer. Harry mustn't know about it. It's way more dangerous for him than it is for me. If he meddled himself in it, I would have so much to do to get him out of it.

"Dobby can’t, sir, Dobby can’t, Dobby mustn’t tell!" squealed the elf. "Go home, Harry Potter, Delilah Hawkins, go home!"

"We're not going anywhere!" said Harry fiercely. "One of my best friends is Muggle-born; she’ll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened—"

If possible, my eyes widened even more, almost falling out of their sockets. I had forgotten Hermione was a Muggle-born. And then there's Dean and some others... I can't let anything happen to them.

"Harry Potter and Delilah Hawkins risk their own lives for their friends!" moaned Dobby in a kind of miserable ecstasy. "So noble! So valiant! But they must save themselves, they must, Harry Potter and Delilah Hawkins must not—"

Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. I heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.

“Dobby must go!” breathed the elf, terrified.

Harry started to panic. "Dobby, wait, no don't—" But too late. There was a loud crack, and Harry’s fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. He slumped back into bed beside me and I lied back as well, his eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing and my ears on high alert as the footsteps drew nearer. I discreetly sniffed the air and recognized grandpa D's minty scent.

I furrowed my brows and concentrated really hard until I was able to pear through his mind and see what was going on. Next moment, I could see him backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap.

He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed. 

"Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of my bed out of sight. Harry and I lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. I heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. I heard a sharp intake of breath.

"What happened?" I heard Madam Pomfrey whispered to grandpa D,  probably examining the statue.  

"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs."  

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter and Hawkins."  

My stomach gave a horrible lurch. Slowly and carefully, I raised myself a few inches so I could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.     

It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera. Grandpa D caught me looking and a twinkle of worry glazed through his blue eyes as he sent me a knowing look.   

"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey. 

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "But I shudder to think... If Albus hadn’t been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate— who knows what might have—"      

The three of them stared down at Colin. Then grandpa D leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin’s rigid grip. 

"You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" said Professor McGonagall eagerly.

 He didn’t answer. He opened the back of the camera. 

"Good gracious!" said Madam Pomfrey.      

A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. I, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic. 

"Melted," said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly. "All melted..."       

"What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.     

"It means," said grandpa D, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."  

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.     

"But, Albus... surely... who?"  

"The question is not who," said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. "The question is, how..." And from what I could see of Professor McGonagall’s shadowy face, she didn’t understand this any better than I did.


	12. The Dueling Club

Harry and I woke up on Sunday morning to find the dormitory blazing with winter sunlight. His arm was finally re-boned but very stiff and all my shattered bones were... well un-shattered but that side of my body still ached. I sat up quickly and looked over at Colin’s bed, but it had been blocked from view by the high curtains Harry had changed behind yesterday. Seeing that we were awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a large breakfast tray for Harry and I to share and then began bending and stretching his arm and fingers.

"All in order," she said as he clumsily fed himself porridge left-handed. Then she came over to me and examined me as well. When she saw me wincing every now and then, she recommended I'd stay, but I refused. I was fine. "When you've both finished eating, you may leave."

We dressed as quickly as we could and hurried off to Gryffindor Tower, desperate to tell Ron and Hermione about Colin and Dobby, but they weren’t there. We left to look for them, wondering where they could have got to. 

As we passed the library, Percy strolled out of it, looking in far better spirits than last time we'd met.        

"Oh, hello, Harry. Hello, Delilah," he said. "Excellent flying yesterday, really excellent. You too, Delilah. Gryffindor has just taken the lead for the House Cup— you earned fifty points!"        

"You haven’t seen Ron or Hermione, have you?" said Harry.        

"No, I haven’t," said Percy, his smile fading. "I hope Ron’s not in another girls’ toilet..."        

Harry seemed to have forced a laugh, as we watched Percy walk out of sight, and then headed straight for Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. I couldn’t see why Ron and Hermione would be in there again, but after making sure that neither Filch nor any prefects were around, Harry opened the door and we heard their voices coming from a locked stall.

"It’s us," he said, closing the door behind us. There was a clunk, a splash, and a gasp from within the stall and I saw Hermione’s eye peering through the keyhole.

"Harry! Deli!" she said. "You gave us such a fright— come in. How’s your arm, Harry? And Deli... your bones?"         

"Fine," Harry and I replied at the same time, squeezing into the stall. An old cauldron was perched on the toilet, and a crackling from under the rim told me they had lit a fire beneath it. Conjuring up portable, waterproof fires was a specialty of Hermione’s. 

"We’d’ve come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion," Ron explained as us, with difficulty, locked the stall again. "We’ve decided this is the safest place to hide it." 

Harry started to tell them about Colin, but Hermione interrupted. 

"We already know— we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That’s why we decided we’d better get going—" 

"The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better," snarled Ron. "D’you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin." 

"There’s something else," said Harry, watching Hermione tearing bundles of knotgrass and throwing them into the potion. "Dobby came to visit Deli and I in the middle of the night."

Ron and Hermione looked up, amazed. Harry told them everything Dobby had told us— or hadn’t told us. Hermione and Ron listened with their mouths open.         

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?" Hermione said. 

"This settles it," said Ron in a triumphant voice. "Lucius Malfoy must’ve opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he’s told dear old Draco how to do it. It’s obvious. Wish Dobby’d told you what kind of monster’s in there, though. I want to know how come nobody’s noticed it sneaking around the school."         

"Maybe it can make itself invisible," said Hermione, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. "Or maybe it can disguise itself— pretend to be a suit of armor or something— I’ve read about Chameleon Ghouls—"         

"You read too much, Hermione," said Ron, pouring dead lacewings on top of the leeches. He crumpled up the empty lacewing bag and looked at us.         

"So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm and half of Deli." He shook his head. "You know what, Harry? If he doesn’t stop trying to save your lives he’s going to kill the both of you." 

The news that Colin had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion. The first years were now moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.

Ginny, who sat next to Colin in Charms, was distraught, but I felt that Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They were taking turns covering themselves with fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statues. They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write to Mrs. Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares. 

In the second week of December Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I signed her list; we had heard that Malfoy was staying, which struck them as very suspicious while I just chose to stay because I needed to make sure Harry was safe. 

According to Hermione, the holidays would be the perfect time to use the Polyjuice Potion and try to worm a confession out of Malfoy. Unfortunately, the potion was only half finished. They still needed the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin, and the only place they were going to get them was from Snape’s private stores. Harry told me he’d rather face Slytherin’s legendary monster than let Snape catch him robbing his office. 

"What we need," said Hermione briskly as Thursday afternoon’s double Potions lesson loomed nearer, "is a diversion. Then one of us can sneak into Snape’s office and take what we need." 

Harry and Ron looked at her nervously.

"I think I'd better do the actual stealing," Hermione continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "You two will be expelled if you get into any more trouble, and Deli and I've got clean records, but I don't think she wants any part in it." I shook my head, agreeing with her perfect guess. I didn't want anything to do with that. "So all you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so."

Harry smiled feebly. Deliberately causing mayhem in Snape’s Potions class was about as safe as poking a sleeping dragon in the eye. 

In Potions class, Goyle’s potion exploded, showering the whole class. People shrieked as splashes of the Swelling Solution hit them. Malfoy got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon; Goyle blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of a dinner plate— Snape was trying to restore calm and find out what had happened. Through the confusion, I saw Hermione slip quietly into Snape’s office.

"Silence! SILENCE!" Snape roared. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft— when I find out who did this—"

I could see from the corner of my eye, Harry trying not to laugh as he watched Malfoy hurry forward, his head drooping with the weight of a nose like a small melon. As half the class lumbered up to Snape’s desk, some weighted down with arms like clubs, others unable to talk through gigantic puffed-up lips, I saw Hermione slide back into the dungeon, the front of her robes bulging. 

When everyone had taken a swig of antidote and the various swellings had subsided, Snape swept over to Goyle’s cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

"If I ever find out who threw this," Snape whispered, "I shall make sure that person is expelled."

Harry arranged his face into what he I'm sure he hoped was a puzzled expression. He actually succeeded. Snape was looking right at him, and the bell that rang ten minutes later could not have been more welcome. 

"He knew it was me," Harry told Ron, Hermione and I as we hurried back to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. "I could tell." 

Hermione threw the new ingredients into the cauldron and began to stir feverishly. 

"It’ll be ready in two weeks," she said happily. 

"Snape can’t prove it was you," said Ron reassuringly to Harry. "What can he do?" 

"Knowing Snape, something foul," said Harry as the potion frothed and bubbled. 

A week later, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were walking across the entrance hall when we saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus and Dean beckoned us over, looking excited. 

"They’re starting a Dueling Club!" said Seamus. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn’t mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days..." 

"What, you reckon Slytherin’s monster can duel?" said Ron, but he, too, read the sign with interest. 

"Could be useful," he said to Harry, Hermione and I as we went into dinner. "Shall we go?" 

Harry, Hermione and I were all for it, so at eight o’clock that evening we hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited. 

"I wonder who’ll be teaching us?" said Hermione as we edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young— maybe it’ll be him." 

"As long as it’s not—" Harry began, but I cut him off with a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

"Well... I will be going now... to drown my sorrows in a chocolate milkshake," I said, turning on my heel and heading for the door while hoping the house elves in the kitchen know how to make a chocolate milkshake. Back at the orphanage, Ami and Bella always made three chocolate milkshakes for the three of us when either of us were grumpy or annoyed about something, it would always cheer us up. Even if at the time I didn't laugh or smile... or speak, it still made me feel better. 

I was almost at the door when I was suddenly stopped by three pairs of hands, yanking me back. As soon as they let go, I quickly made a run for it but once again was stopped by a hand grabbing mine. 

"No, stay. Please," Harry said. I turned around to look at him and make up some excuse, but groaned when he gave me his famous pleading look. He knew how that made it impossible for me to refuse anything to him. I sighed and nodded, letting him pull me back to where Ron and Hermione were standing as Lockhart waved an arm for silence. 

"Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!" he called. "Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions— for full details, see my published works." 

He paused, looking around at the crowd. 

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry— you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!"   

"Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered to Harry and I. I bit back a smile. 

Snape’s upper lip was curling. I wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; Snape can be a rough trainer or training partner when he wants to. And by the look on his face, he definitely wants to. 

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them. 

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course." 

"I wouldn’t bet on that," Harry murmured, grabbing my hand again and slightly squeezing it as we watched Snape baring his teeth. 

"One— two— three—"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried, "Expelliarmus!" 

There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor. Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered and for the first time in quite a long while, I laughed. I laughed so hard, I had to lean on Harry and Ron to catch my breath. 

Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. "Do you think he’s all right?" she squealed through her fingers. 

"Who cares?" Harry, Ron and I said together.   

I turned to Harry and Ron with a grin on my face. "You know," I whispered at them. "I think  _this_  is the only nice thing Snape has done for  _us_." They nodded in agreement, grinning back at me before we turned to look back at the idiotic man I still think is a fraud. 

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm— as you see, I’ve lost my wand— ah, thank you, Miss Brown— yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind me saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy— however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..." 

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me—" 

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Harry and Ron first.        

"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter—"         

Harry's grip on my hand tightened as he automatically moved closer to me.         

"I don’t think so," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let’s see what you make of the famous Potter. You, Miss Hawkins, go with Parkinson, and you, Miss Granger— you can partner Miss Bulstrode." 

Malfoy strutted over, smirking. Behind him walked two Slytherin girls who reminded me of a picture I'd seen in Holidays with Hags. The one who walked over to Hermione was large and square and her heavy jaw jutted aggressively. Hermione gave her a weak smile that she did not return. The one who walked towards me was smaller and looked like a... pug and I instantly recognized her as the girl from my first Defense against the Dark arts— she was the one who provoked me into doing the tiny tornado. 

Pansy.

She smirked at me, but I simply glared in return. 

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"       

Pansy and I barely inclined our heads, not taking our eyes off each other.   

"Hope this won't make you go mute again," she taunted. 

"I am not mute," I growled.

"So she does and still speaks." She laughed. 

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents— only to disarm them— we don’t want any accidents— one... two..."

"Just because I had not spoken for most of my life until this year does not mean I am mute, pug face," I hissed. 

Her smirk turned into a glare. 

"THREE!" Then the next thing that happened was unexpected. 

 _Really_  unexpected. 

She grabbed me and put me in a headlock. I started to shake in rage, but didn't do anything because it was either use hand magic and let the whole world know that I'm capable of doing so which is supposed to be kept a secret since I'm the only one who can do it, throw her against the wall which will only get people suspicious of what I am (not a good idea since my kind is extinct— well I'm the only one left) or stay put and simply pretend to be struggling until someone else steps in. 

She tightened her grip around my neck, took my wand and threw it a few feet away from us, making me growl at her. She was so lucky I chose the third option.

Suddenly, I was free. I looked up and saw some Ravenclaw boy pulling Pansy away. He picked up my wand and handed it to me. I smiled at him as I took it, but when I turned around, let's just say the previous options were long forgotten when I saw a Slytherin girl trapping Parvati Patil in a headlock.

My anger boiled as I stormed over to them.

"Get your hands off her before I create an earthquake big enough to break the floor under your feet and let you fall in that crack, you snake!" I growled. Her eyes widened as she realized I had directed that to her and she quickly let go of Parvati who was blushing when I stepped towards her to examine her neck.

"Are you alright?" I whispered.

"Yes. Th-thank you," she stuttered. 

"Stop! Stop!" I heard Lockhart scream, Snape following right after, shouting, "Finite Incantatem!" I turned just in time to see Harry panting and a red Malfoy who had just stopped laughing. 

I looked around and disbelief took over me; a haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologizing for whatever his broken wand had done; but Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor. What is it with Slytherin girls and headlocks? Harry leapt forward and pulled Millicent off. It was difficult: She was a lot bigger than he was, so I went to help him and gave Bulstrode the same threat I gave the other Slytherin girl. 

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, MacMillan... Careful there, Miss Fawcett... Pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second. I think I’d better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let’s have a volunteer pair— Weasley and Finnegan, how about you—"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Weasley's wand causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finnegan's ashes up to the hospital wing in a sac." Ron's face went red Weasley. "How about we give Hawkins a try?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing me into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room. "How about Miss Hawkins and Miss Granger." 

"No!" we both said. 

"Alright then," he said, "Hawkins... and... well, I don't know... anyone else in your year?" Lockhart said. 

"I am fine with going against someone older," I said. 

He looked at me. "Good idea. Let's see how you can defend yourself against someone older," he said, then scanned the crowd of students. "How about Weasley?"

"Which one?" Ron and the twins (whom I just realized were here too) asked. 

"Er... You there," he said, pointing at one of the twins. 

"Which one of us?" they asked, smiling, making everyone laugh. 

"Fred," I whispered to Lockhart. 

He nodded before saying out loud, "Fred." The redhead grinned back at his twin as he joined me in the middle of the hall. 

"Fred," I greeted with a secret smile, slightly nodding my head.   

"Lee-lee," he greeted in a serious voice, though I can see him smiling. 

"Now, Delilah," said Lockhart. "When Fred points his wand at you, you do this."         

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. I choked back a laugh and looked at Snape who smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops— my wand is a little overexcited—"       

Snape moved closer to me, bent down, and whispered in my ear, "Remember, just like in practice, Delilah.  _Expelliarmus._ " I nodded. 

Fred smirked mischievously at me, making me roll my eyes. I looked up at Lockhart and said, "Can we just get this over with?" 

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, descending on the platform. 

"We are already facing each other," I muttered. 

"And bow!"   

Fred bowed dramatically while I simply shook my head with a small smile and slightly inclined my head, not taking our eyes off each other.       

"Scared, Lee-lee?" Fred taunted in a low voice, so that Lockhart couldn’t hear him.         

I rolled my eyes. "In your dreams,  _Freddie_ ," I said out of the corner of my mouth.         

Lockhart cuffed me merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Delilah!" 

I scoffed. "What, drop my wand?" 

But Lockhart wasn’t listening. Rolling my eyes, I put my wand down at my side, spun on my heel, walked five steps then turned back around to face Fred. 

"Three— two—" 

Fred swung his wand high while I simply rolled my eyes and slightly lifted mine, pointing it at him. 

"one— go!" Lockhart shouted.   

"Expelliarmus," I said calmly, and Fred's wand shot over to me. I caught it and smiled. 

"Good job, Miss Hawkins," Lockhart said smiling, "Perfectly done, twenty points to Gryffindor." 

Everyone cheered and I was fighting back a smile as I watched Fred's stunned face. "How?" he asked looking around. 

I stepped forward towards him. "I think this is yours," I said, holding his wand out. He took it, still looking at me in disbelief. He left the platform to join his twin and I was about to follow when I was suddenly stopped by a long arm wrapped around my shoulders. I looked up and groaned when I saw who it was. 

"Who would like to give it a try against Hawkins?" Lockhart asked, smiling down at me though I simply looked at him weirdly while thinking 'Why me?'.

"I'll go," George said. "Don't worry, Freddie. I'll win back your dignity." 

I sighed then shrugged Lockhart's arm before going back to where I previously stood as George walked up. We faced each other and bowed— him bowing as dramatically as Fred had with much twirling of his hands, whereas I jerked my head quickly. Then we raised our wands like swords in front of us.   

"George," I said smiling and putting my wand down at my side. 

"Deli," he said smiling back. I turned and walked five steps then turned back around and held my wand out. 

"Alright. On the count of three, you will cast your first spells. Remember, neither of you will be aiming to kill, of course."

George rolled his eyes. "Ya think," he muttered, making me slightly smile. He smiled back.

"Three— two—" 

"I hope you're ready, Lee-lee," George taunted with a mischievous grin on his face. 

"One—"   

"I always am," I reassured with a small mischievous smile of my own.       

"Go!" 

Both of us swung our wands above our heads and pointed them at our opponent; George cried, "Expelliarmus!" but I quickly blocked it by mumbling, "Protego!" 

After blocking his attempt at disarming me, I quickly pointed my wand at him and said loud and clear, "Expelliarmus." George's wand shot over to me. I caught it and smiled. 

"Good job, Miss Hawkins," Lockhart said smiling, "Well done, well done. Another twenty points to Gryffindor... and five more for Mr. Weasley's effort. Who else wants to give it try?" I looked around to the room, but everyone was backing a way. "How about Mr. Diggory?" 

I looked at Lockhart questioningly. Who's Diggory? I threw George his wand and watched as a Hufflepuff boy took his place. He seemed to be about the twins' age, maybe a year older. He was tall and quite handsome with chiselled features, pale skin, rosy cheeks, dark bronze... ish hair, and bright grey eyes. He stepped forward and smiled shyly at me, making me smile softly back at him. I never thought I could make people feel shy around me. 

We stepped closer, still facing each other and bowed. We raised our wands like swords in front of us then put the down to our side, turning our backs to each other. I walked five steps then turned back around and held my wand out towards my opponent. 

"Three— two—" 

"Good luck," the Hufflepuff said with a kind smile. At least he wasn't taunting or mischievous like Fred and George. I smiled at him and nodded, signaling that I wished him good luck as well.

"One— go!"   

"Alarte Ascendare," he shouted, brandishing his wand at me and there was a loud bang as a flash shot out of his wand towards me. I was stunned, I had never heard that spell before, but I quickly blocked it, saying, "Protego." I was lucky because, now that I think of it,  _'Ascendare'_  is a Latin verb meaning 'to ascend' so I would've surely been thrown up into the air, and after just leaving the hospital wing, I wasn't feeling well enough to be in the air again just yet.

"Nice save, Delilah!" Lockhart exclaimed himself. The Hufflepuff boy and I just rolled our eyes then smiled at each other before proceeding. 

I pointed my wand at my opponent and said, "Defodio." 

"Protego," he exclaimed himself. "Descendo!" 

"Protego," I said calmly. "Expelliarmus." His wand flew out of his hand and shot over to me. I caught it and smiled, making him blush and smile back as I stepped forward and gave him back his wand. 

"Good job, Miss Hawkins," Lockhart said, smiling, "Well done. Another twenty points to Gryffindor... and ten to Hufflepuff for Mr. Diggory. That was quite a show. Does anyone else want to—"

"I'll go," a girl's voice said.

I looked up at the spot where my opponent should stand and saw Pansy walking towards it. She smirked, but it instantly faded when I smiled coldly and sarcastically at her. I'm sure she was expecting me to feel intimidated, but when you've faced a pack of werewolves and fought against a few alongside a few shifters, a mountain troll, a dead unicorn and a two faced freak, a twelve-year-old Slytherin girl's smirk isn't even the least intimidating thing you've seen especially if that twelve-year-old girl is Pansy.  

I looked at Lockhart and saw he was just looking at her cautiously. "Er... Delilah... are you sure you—" I simply ignored him and walked past him.

Pansy and I stepped forward, still facing each other and slightly bowed. We raised our wands like swords in front of us. 

"You're going down, Hawkins," she sneered, her smirk widening.

I rolled my eyes as we put our wands down to our side. "We shall see, Parkinson. We shall see," I said as we turned our backs to each other. I walked five steps then turned back around and held my wand out towards my opponent.

"Three—" 

"I hope you're ready, Hawkins," she taunted with a mischievous grin on her pug face. 

"I always am," I reassured her with a small mischievous smile of my own, making her smirk slightly falter, but it came back. 

"Two—" 

"Everte statium!" I was thrown into the air by an invisible force and landed on one knee... my freakin'  _right_  one. It didn't hurt, but it kind of made my earlier aches resubmerge, and that really frustrated me. Plus, she didn't even wait for Lockhart to say 'one' or 'go'. 

"Disarm only," Lockhart reminded, but I ignored him, got up on my feet and stormed back to my spot, pointing my wand at Pansy and said one of my favorite spells. 

"Stupefy." 

The spell threw her backwards and made her land on her back, wincing. She let out a loud groan before jumping onto her feet and turning back to me. 

"Incarcerous," she shouted, but I duked down and instead of me getting tied with ropes, Lockhart did.

Before I even had the time to react, she did the last spell I ever though she would— a spell she shouldn't even know yet. 

"Fiendfyre!" Flames of abnormal size soared from the tip of his wand evaporated in the air.   

"Deli!" I heard my name being shouted as I eternally panicked while looking at the fire. I stared at the fire spirit advancing on me and I lost focus, my vision becoming blurry till the point where I had to close my eyes. 

_I opened my eyes and did... nothing._

_No. I did do something. All I did was... watch._

_I simply stood there and watched the roaring flames engulfing our small villa that was now collapsing._  

_**Anima Curatoria** would be no more. It was, now, just a matter of minutes before our territory became vast._

_"Aurelia, take Delilah and run as fast as you can!" dad shouted. I might've been confused at why this was happening, but I didn't want to leave anyone behind. Not my three brothers, not my other relatives, not mom or dad... not Chance— my mate._  

 _"No, Eben! We're not leaving you!" mom shouted back as she pulled me aside trying to dodge the burning pieces of wood that were flying around in the air. I wanted to agree with her and stay, but I couldn't speak. I looked at my father's pleading eyes and felt my heart break. I hadn't seen him in so long, I almost forgot how he looked. I shook my head and closed my eyes, not wanting to look at his eyes anymore. Not wanting to obey him. Wanting to just stay there... and do what I didn't have the chance to do._  

 _I wanted to save them... but I knew I couldn't._  

I opened my eyes and looked at the fire spirits engulfing me. I stared at the fire spirit's face with hatred then closed my eyes once again, thinking, " _Aqua Eructo_."

Suddenly, water filled the inside of my body before bursting out of me. As soon as I felt the heat of the fire completely gone only leaving the heat of the rage inside of me, I opened my eyes and glared at Pansy who was soaking wet. I fell onto my knees from all the energy I lost, but didn't say anything as she stared at me in fear and shame. 

"I-I'm sorry. I-I d-didn't know it would—" 

I shot up to my feet in anger. " _Expelliarmus_ ," I thought and her wand shot out of her hand and flew over to me.

I threw it onto the floor and glared at her one last time before turning on my heel. As I was about to leave the platform, I collapsed as I felt the burning pain inside my body. _Huh..._ At least now I got what I deserved; I felt what my pack felt  _that_  night.

"Deli!" Hermione shouted, rushing over to me along with Harry, Ron, the twins and the Hufflepuff boy I dueled against earlier. 

"What the hell?!" he said standing up and walking towards Pansy, "You almost burnt her alive." 

Lockhart finally escaped from the ropes he had been tied up in earlier and was furious, "Miss Hawkins, are you alright?" he asked. 

I opened my mouth but then closed it and didn't say anything because I knew I would most likely lie. I raised my hand to wipe away the sweat that was trickling down my forehead, but when I did and pulled my hand back, I saw my hand was slightly burned and was bleeding. I hid it in the pocket of my robe and stumble myself onto my feet, nodding rapidly. 

"I am fine," I said in a calm voice, not caring if I was lying anymore. 

Ron stepped forward. "No, you're not, Deli. We just saw you—"

"I said 'I am fine'. And I am." I turned to look at Lockhart's concerned face. "You may proceed."

With that said, I walked off the platform, followed by my friends and the Hufflepuff boy who seemed to close to me to my liking. I smiled at him and he smiled back before turning on his heels and going to join his own friends making me sigh in relief.

"Well... that was... eventful," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let’s have a volunteer pair— Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you—"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," Snape said, again, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch- Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Neville’s round, pink face went pinker. "How about Malfoy and Potter?" Snape had a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room. 

"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "As I demonstrated to Delilah earlier, when Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops— my wand is a little overexcited—" 

I glared at Lockhart. "Yes, it does seem to be overexciting a lot, lately," I muttered sarcastically under my breath, making Ron snicker. I stepped closer to the middle of the hall and stood beside the Hufflepuff boy from Herbology, Justin Finch-Fletchley, with Ron and Hermione right behind me.

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too. Harry looked up nervously at Lockhart and said, "Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?" 

"Scared, Potter?" I heard Malfoy mutter so that Lockhart couldn’t hear him.

"You wish," Harry replied out of the corner of his mouth.  

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!" 

"What, drop his wand like you did twice?" I said out old, causing a few students to laugh. I didn't understand what was so amusing about what I said, I was simply stating the sad, sad truth.       

But, of course, Lockhart wasn’t listening. As usual. 

"Three— two— one— go!" he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!" Ugh! What is it with Slytherins using spells they shouldn't use?!

The end of his wand exploded. I watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

"Don’t move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I’ll get rid of it..."  

"Allow me! Alarte Ascendare!" Lockhart shouted, making me face-palm myself. Did he not see when the Hufflepuff boy used that spell against me earlier?

He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. I could tell it was enraged as it hissed furiously, slithering... straight toward me.

Great... just great. Note the sarcasm I rarely use.

It raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike. Panicked, I looked at Harry only to see him walking forward.

Focused on the snake, he suddenly shouted at the snake, "Leave her alone!" And miraculously— inexplicably—  the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. I felt the fear drain out of me. I somehow knew the snake wouldn’t attack anyone now, though how I knew it, I couldn’t have explained.         

Harry looked up at me, grinning, but I only stared at him in... awe. This was the first time I saw an animal or creature— call it what you want— obey to someone who wasn't like me at all.

"What do you think you’re playing at?" Justin suddenly shouted from beside me, stepping in front of me in a protective stance, but I ignored him and pushed past him. I walked up to Harry and grabbed his hand. 

"Thank you," I whispered at him, making him smile a small smile. The snake hissed at me, making me turn and glare at it. "No. You, shut up," I growled at it, making sure to use my alpha tone. It worked; the snake cowarded away. 

Snape stepped forward and waved his wand. " _Vipera Evanesca,_ " he said in a low voice, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: it was a shrewd and calculating look, and I'm pretty sure Harry didn’t like it. I was also dimly aware of an ominous muttering all around the walls. Then I felt a tugging on the back of my robes.

"Come on," Ron whispered to Harry and I. "Move— come on—" 

Ron steered us out of the hall, Hermione hurrying alongside them. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. I didn’t have a clue what was going on, and from the looks of it, neither Harry and Ron nor Hermione explained anything until they had dragged us all the way up to the empty Gryffindor common room.

Well, I guess they were going to give him  _'the talk'_.


	13. You know too much...

Ron pushed Harry into an armchair and said, "You’re a Parselmouth. Why didn’t you tell us?"       

"I’m a what?" said Harry. 

"A Parselmouth!" Ron repeated, making my eyes widen in shock. No, he couldn't be... could he? But then that would mean that I... no. "You can talk to snakes!"

"I know," said Harry. "I mean, that’s only the second time I’ve ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once— long story— but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to that was before I knew I was a wizard—"

"A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?" Ron repeated faintly.

"So?" said Harry. "I bet loads of people here can do it."

"Oh, no they can’t," said Ron. "It’s not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad."

"What’s bad?" said Harry, starting to feel quite angry. "What’s wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn’t told that snake not to attack Deli—" 

"Oh, that’s what you said to it?"

"What d’you mean? You were there— you heard me—" 

"I heard you speaking Parseltongue," said Ron. "Snake language. You could have been saying anything— no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something— it was creepy, you know—" 

Harry gaped at him. "I spoke a different language? But— I didn’t realize— how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?"   

Harry sighed. "Whatever. I told it to stop, okay? You do believe me, right?"   

"I do. I... Harry, I understood what you were saying," I whispered, dropping his hand I had just realized I was still holding, and staring at the ground.  

"What?" Ron and Hermione exclaimed. 

"Well, I sort of have a gift for understanding animals— creatures in general. But I never thought it would go to the point where I understood an actual... animal language?"

Ron shook his head. Both he and Hermione were looking as though someone had died. 

"D’you want to tell me what’s wrong with stopping a massive snake biting off Justin and Deli's heads?" Harry said. "What does it matter how I did it as long as Justin and Deli don't have to join the Headless Hunt?"  

"It matters," Hermione said, speaking at last in a hushed voice. 

I nodded in agreement. "It matters because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That is why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent." 

Harry’s mouth fell open.         

"Exactly," said Ron. "And now the whole school’s going to think you’re his great-great-great- great-grandson or something—"

"But I’m not," said Harry, with a panic he couldn’t quite explain.         

"You’ll find that hard to prove," said Hermione. "He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be."

I lay awake for hours that night, Thunder lowly snoring from under my arm and Atlas sleeping on his cushion. Through a gap in the curtains around my bed, I watched snow starting to drift past the tower window and wondered... what does this all mean? The whole Chamber of Secrets drama has really gotten on my nerves.

By next morning, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.

Harry fretted about this next to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, while Ron and Hermione used their time off to play a game of wizard chess and I simply watched.

"For heaven’s sake, Harry," said Hermione, exasperated, as one of Ron’s bishops wrestled her knight off his horse and dragged him off the board. "Go and find Justin if it’s so important to you."

With that, Harry got up and left through the portrait hole. I kept watching them play for a few more minutes before sighing and getting up as well.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked, looking at me curiously. 

" _Library_ ," I told them through my mind. I flipped my hand and made my bag appear with my white board, my black marker and my wand inside of it. 

"I'll go with you," Hermione said starting to get up. 

"But we're playing!" Ron whined.

I chuckled and shook my head. " _Stay here, I need to be alone for a while_." And with that, I left. 

The castle was darker than it usually was in daytime because of the thick, swirling gray snow at every window. Shivering, I walked past classrooms where lessons were taking place, catching snatches of what was happening within. Professor McGonagall was shouting at someone who, by the sound of it, had turned his friend into a badger. Resisting the urge to take a look, I walked on by and continued on my way to the library.

A group of the Hufflepuffs who should have been in Herbology were indeed sitting at the back of the library, but they didn’t seem to be working. Between the long lines of high bookshelves, I could see that their heads were close together and they were having what looked like an absorbing conversation. I was walking toward them when something of what they were saying met my ears, and I paused to listen, hidden in the Invisibility section.

"So anyway," a stout boy was saying, "I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter’s marked him down as his next victim— I mean, did you see the way he looked at him when he tried to protect 'his' Delilah? Of course, Justin’s been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he’d been down for Eton. That’s not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin’s heir on the loose, is it?" 

"You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?" said a girl with blonde pigtails anxiously.

"Hannah," said the stout boy solemnly, "he’s a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that’s the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."

"But it's not fair to say that. Didn't you see the look on Delilah's face? She seemed to have understood him. Maybe it has nothing to do with the Slytherin heir— maybe it has to do with them surviving against You-Know-Who," the girl insisted. And ten points for the girl with blonde pigtails! She should be in Ravenclaw... 

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went on, ignoring her, "Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch’s cat’s attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know— Creevey’s been attacked." 

"He always seems so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly, "and, well, he’s the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can’t be all bad, can he?" 

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and I edged nearer so that I could catch Ernie’s words. 

"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That’s probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn’t want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter’s been hiding?"   

I couldn’t take anymore, but I couldn't do anything about it at the moment. I came to the library for one reason only and if I didn't keep that in my head I would surely forget no matter how perfect my memory supposedly is. Taking a deep breath, I ignored the Hufflepuffs and marched my way towards the History of Hogwarts section. I searched through the titles of every book and almost screamed out of excitement when I found the book I was looking for:

_The History of the Students of Hogwarts._  

I grabbed the book, walked towards an empty table and set it there. I flipped through the pages, the name of one person in my mind, but another caught my attention. 

**Eloisa Carina Dawn**   **(Harrison, spouse surname).**

Shaking my head, I let my finger slide down the page. The moment my finger landed on another  _certain_  name, I froze. Only one person had that name... but that was impossible. My grandmother was the last one and only in our family to attend Hogwarts before me. 

**Ella-Grace Aurelia Dawn (Hawkins, spouse surname).**

Why didn't Dumbledore tell me my mother had attended Hogwarts— why hadn't anyone told me? I have a right to know when it concerns my family. Sighing, I resumed reading what was right after.   

**Daren Frederick Dawn Harrison.**

**Catriona Arissa Dilara Hoya Dawn.**

I frowned. I had never heard those names in my family history. Shrugging, I looked around me to make sure no one was watching me then I quickly ripped the page out, folded it and put it in my bag before resuming flipping through the pages until I finally came upon the one I wad looking for.

**Tom Marvolo Riddle** _was born on 31 December, New Year's Eve, 1926 at Wool's Orphanage in London. His pure-blood mother, Merope Gaunt, died shortly after his birth. Soon before her death, she named the child after his father, Tom Riddle Sr., and Marvolo Gaunt, her father. Tom Riddle Sr. was a wealthy Muggle living in the village of Little Hangleton who was tricked into a relationship with Merope through probable use of a Love Potion or Imperius Curse. After some time, it is speculated by Dumbledore that Merope discontinued her use of love potions on Tom, in the hopes that he had really fallen in love with her, or would at least stay for their child's sake. To Merope's great sorrow, he abandoned her and their unborn child._

_Tom grew up in a dingy orphanage, unaware of his wizarding heritage. Despite his ignorance of his mother's true background, Tom had some grasp on his abilities beyond that of normal magical children of his same age, however, and an unusually high degree of control over them. Tom could move objects with his mind and cause them to travel floating wherever he wished, manipulate animals and creatures as he wished, speak Parseltongue, and use his power to inflict harm on other orphans. On one occasion, he took two orphans, Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson, into a cave, where he performed an act so horrifying that the two orphans were traumatized into silence. Young Tom Riddle also stole from other orphans and hid their things in his cupboard like trophies. Albus Dumbledore later stopped him from this hobby._  

I groaned as I felt my frown deepen. This didn't really explain what I wanted to know. It only told me things about him from before he came into the wizarding world, but it gave me no hints as to why his name sounded so familiar. Sighing, I put closed the book and brought my white board and black marker out, thinking...

What is his name was a riddle? Well... his last name is Riddle, but that's not what I mean. What if... I separated each and tried to re-write it all... and it gave me another name? Does that make sense? No, but I have to try it anyway. I uncapped my marker and wrote, at the top of my white board, Tom's full name.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle._  

I separated each letter and for the first time in... quite a while, I used  _math_  to help myself. I drew a 'tree of possibilities' like I learned back at the orphanage and wrote each letter at the beginning of each branch. It took me almost four hours to unravel it, but in the end, I finally understood why it sounded so familiar.

In the end, I had only one thought in my mind as I stared at my small diagram, and it sure as  _hell_  wasn't  _'Shoot, shoot, crazy gun, shoot!'_. 

That thought was one thought I never thought I would think even after all the years I lived in America... with Americans.

_Oh, shit._

I got up, threw my white board and marker into my bag and ran out of the library. As soon as I was out, I literally face-palmed myself: I could've apparated myself out of there and wasted less time than I already am wasting by even thinking. Shaking my head, I started quickly making my way towards the Gryffindor common room, praying Ginny would be there. We had to get rid of that damn diary. 

I stomped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. I was halfway down the passage when suddenly I heard someone calling my name. I groaned. I don't have time to socialize... even though I never do. I turned around and almost screamed out of relief. Ginny was walking toward me. I ran toward her and grabbed her hand. 

"Ginny, I know the reason why we have to get rid of that diary now. Come on, we have to destroy it," I said quickly, pulling her towards the way I was going. 

She pulled me back. "No. I don't want to get rid of it."

I gave her a weird look. "Ginny, we must. If we do not... the Chamber will be opened." 

"That's the point, Delilah," she said, smirking at me in a way that made me shiver. Something was wrong. This was definitely not the Ginny I knew. 

"What are you going on about, Ginny?"

"Haven’t you guessed yet, Delilah Hawkins?" She laughed. "Or should I say... Delilah... Black." 

"What?" I asked. I was seriously getting confused. I already knew without a doubt that this wasn't Ginny, but what was she going on about my surname being... Black? As far as I know, I'm not related to anyone with that name— everyone I'm related to is dead.   

She sighed. "You took a very long time to get stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary."

That's when it clicked. "Tom," I growled. "Leave Ginny alone." 

She sighed and shook her head. "See... I can't do that. She was doing perfectly fine, pouring her secrets and soul into the diary. But then... you came in,  _Deli_. Because of you, she finally became suspicious and tried to figure out how to dispose of it. But then you came back, and I couldn’t have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have easily snatched it from such a fragile little girl, it was you, who sneaked in to write in it. The very person I was most anxious to meet again... well, one of them..."         

"And why did you want to meet me?" I asked. Anger was coursing through me, and it was an effort to keep my voice steady.        

"Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Delilah," said Riddle. "Your whole fascinating history." Ginny's brown eyes roved over the lightning scar on my neck, and their expression grew hungrier. "I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could before I meet your precious Harry Potter. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust—"         

"Hagrid is my friend," I growled. "And you framed him, did you not? That is the stupidest thing anyone could ever think of doing, and considering it is you who did it? I would have expected more from you, Voldemort, but—"        

Riddle laughed his high laugh again and it's honestly kind of creepy, especially coming from Ginny's lips.         

"It was back in my days, Black." Seriously, why is he calling me Black?! "And besides, it was my word against Hagrid’s. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student... on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls... but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realize that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance... as though Hagrid had the brains or the power!"

"He might have never been so brilliant, but he is the better person you will never get to be. I mean, come on, you did end up... bodyless," I pointed out, shuddering at the memory of last year's confrontation with the two headed creep. "And let us not forget I can still destroy your diary and this will all be over. No one will be in danger."

He laughed, making me look away as the thought of him being in possession of my best friend's little sister's body creeped me out. "Actually, now that I think of it, you know a bit too much. And... well... that just won't do." 

I snorted humorlessly and crossed my arms over my chest. "And what are you going to do about it?" 

He— she— oh, I don't know! Okay, Tom slash Ginny laughed... quite evilly, might I add. "I'm glad you asked. Well, the answer is simple." 

I raised an eyebrow and waited. "If it is that simple then why do you not just tell me." 

Tom slash Ginny smiled and pointed her wand at me, making me take a step back warily. "I'll make you forget." 

"Wha—" 

"Obliviate!" A flash blinding light hit me, throwing my back against a wall then making me collapse onto the ground. 

The world was spinning and the last thing I heard before everything went black was, "What did you to her?!" 

**Harry's P.O.V.**  

I blundered up the corridor, barely noticing where I was going, I was in such a fury. The result was that I walked into something very large and solid, which knocked me backward onto the floor. 

"Oh, hello, Hagrid," I said, looking up. 

Hagrid’s face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered balaclava, but it couldn’t possibly be anyone else, as he filled most of the corridor in his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands. 

"All righ’, Harry?" he said, pulling up the balaclava so he could speak. "Why aren’t yeh in class?"

"Canceled," said Harry, getting up. "What’re you doing in here?"

Hagrid held up the limp rooster.

"Second one killed this term," he explained. "It’s either foxes or a Blood-Suckin Bugbear, an’ I need the Headmaster’s permission ter put a charm around the hen coop." 

He peered more closely at me from under his thick, snowflecked eyebrows. 

"Yeh sure yeh’re all righ’? Yeh look all hot an’ bothered—"

I couldn’t bring myself to repeat what Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs had been saying about me.

"It’s nothing," I said. "I’d better get going, Hagrid, it’s Transfiguration next and I’ve got to pick up my books."

I walked off, my mind still full of what Ernie had said about me.

" _Justin’s been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born_..."

I stomped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. I was halfway down the passage when I tripped headlong over something lying on the floor. 

I turned to squint at what I'd fallen over and felt as though my stomach had dissolved. 

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn’t all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight I had ever seen.

It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin’s. 

I got to my feet, my breathing fast and shallow, my heart doing a kind of drumroll against my ribs. I looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor and saw a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the bodies. The only sounds were the muffled voices of teachers from the classes on either side.

Taking a deep breath, I looked back towards the path I was heading for at first and felt my heart almost jump out of my chest. I couldn't help but rush over once I saw her lying there, and looking as pale she was. My Delilah looked so... dead.

Her usual light brown highlights were gone and her now waist length wavy hair was only jet black. Her skin looked smoother but it was completely pale, almost as white as snow. You would've thought she was dead... if it weren't for her skin burning temperature. She never did say why it was like that... 

I cupped her cheek with one hand and used the other to grab one of her hands. "Deli, wake up, please. Wake up, don't leave me. Wake u—"

"Why, it’s potty wee Potter!" I heard Peeves cackle from... somewhere, knocking Harry’s glasses askew as he bounced past me. "What’s Potter up to? Why’s Potter lurking—" 

Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, saw Deli lying motionless in my arms, filled his lungs and before I could stop him, screamed, "DELI! NO! OH, NOT DELI!" He stopped to fill his lungs again and scream, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!" 

Crash— crash— crash— door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Justin and Delilah were in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Nearly Headless Nick. I found myself pinned against the wall as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class, one of whom still had black-and-white-striped hair. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence and ordered everyone back into their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat than Ernie the Hufflepuff arrived, panting, on the scene. 

"Caught in the act!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at me.        

"That will do, Macmillan!" said Professor McGonagall sharply.        

Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the scene; Peeves always loved chaos. As the teachers bent over Justin, Delilah and Nearly Headless Nick, examining them, Peeves broke into song:        

"Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done, You’re killing off’ students, you think it’s good fun—"       

"That’s enough Peeves!" barked Professor McGonagall. 

"But Potter rotter hurt Deli belli! He's killing off’ students—" 

"I said that’s enough, Peeves!" Professor McGonagall shouted, and Peeves zoomed away backward, with his tongue out at me. 

Justin and Delilah were carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, but nobody seemed to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick. In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Ernie with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This Ernie did, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft. This left me and Professor McGonagall alone together.        

"This way, Potter," she said.         

"Professor," I said at once, "I swear I didn’t —"         

"This is out of my hands, Potter," said Professor McGonagall curtly.         

We marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.        

"Lemon drop!" she said. This was evidently a password, because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two.

Even full of dread for what was coming, I couldn’t fail to be amazed. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As Professor McGonagall and I stepped onto it, I heard the wall thud closed behind us. Wr rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, I saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.        

I knew now where I was being taken. This must be where Dumbledore lived. And if Professor McGonagall brought me here, it must mean that I am in deep shit even though I didn't do anything.

**_____________________________________**

**Author's note**

**Hey, peeps!**

**Just so you know, the whole _Black_  surname has a lot to do with the third book, so... yeah. Just a heads up to not get you any more confused than you probably got by reading that part.**

**Love you! <3**

**AvyJC**


	14. The Polyjuice Potion

As soon as Professor McGonagall left, a strange, gagging noise behind me made me wheel around.        

I wasn’t alone after all. Standing on a golden perch behind the door was a decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey. I stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making its gagging noise again. I thought it looked very ill. Its eyes were dull and, even as I watched, a couple more feathers fell out of its tail.

I was just thinking that all I needed was for Dumbledore’s pet bird to die while I was alone in the office with it, when the bird burst into flames.        

I yelled in shock and backed away into the desk. I looked feverishly around in case there was a glass of water somewhere but couldn’t see one; the bird, meanwhile, had become a fireball; it gave one loud shriek and next second there was nothing but a smoldering pile of ash on the floor.        

The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very somber.         

"Professor," I gasped. "Your bird — I couldn’t do anything— he just caught fire—"        

To my astonishment, Dumbledore smiled.        

"About time, too," he said. "He’s been looking dreadful for days; I’ve been telling him to get a move on."        

He chuckled at the stunned look that was surely still on my face.        

"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him..."      

I looked down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poke its head out of the ashes. It was quite as ugly as the old one.        

"It’s a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. "He’s really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets."

"Does that mean Delilah's bir— phoenix, Atlas, does the same?" I asked. Dumbledore nodded.   

In the shock of Fawkes catching fire, I had forgotten what I was there for, but it all came back to me as Dumbledore settled himself in the high chair behind the desk and fixed me with his penetrating, light-blue stare.

Before Dumbledore could speak another word, however, the door of the office flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.  

"It wasn’ Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" said Hagrid urgently. "I was talkin’ ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir—"         

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere. 

"It can’t’ve bin him, I’ll swear it in front o’ the Ministry o’ Magic if I have to."

"Hagrid, I—"        

"— yeh’ve got the wrong boy, sir, I know Harry never —"         

"Hagrid!" said Dumbledore loudly. "I do not think that Harry attacked those people."         

"Oh," said Hagrid, the rooster falling limply at his side. "Right. I’ll wait outside then, Headmaster."         

And he stomped out looking embarrassed.         

"You don’t think it was me, Professor?" I repeated hopefully as Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk.        

"No, Harry, I don’t," said Dumbledore, though his face was somber again. "But I still want to talk to you."         

I waited nervously while Dumbledore considered me, the tips of his long fingers together.         

"I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you’d like to tell me," he said gently. "Anything at all."         

I didn’t know what to say. I thought of Malfoy shouting, "You’ll be next, Mudbloods!" and of the Polyjuice Potion simmering away in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Then he thought of the disembodied voice he had heard twice and remembered what Ron had said: "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the wizarding world." He thought, too, about what everyone was saying about him, and his growing dread that he was somehow connected with Salazar Slytherin, and how now they were surely accusing me for what happened to Delilah, whom I hope is alright.         

"No," I said. "There isn’t anything, Professor..."     

The triple attack on Justin, Nearly Headless Nick and Delilah turned what had been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick’s fate that seemed to worry people most— not as much as Deli, but... What could possibly do that to a ghost? What terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? There was almost a stampeded to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas.         

"At this rate, we’ll be the only ones left," Ron told Harry and Hermione. "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it’s going to be."         

Crabbe and Goyle, who always did whatever Malfoy did, had signed up to stay over the holidays, too. But I was glad that most people were leaving. I was tired of people skirting around me in the corridors, as though I was about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired of all the muttering, pointing, and hissing as me passed.   

Fred and George, however, found all this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of me down the corridors, shouting, "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through..."         

Percy was deeply disapproving of this behavior.         

"It is not a laughing matter," he said coldly.         

"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred. "Harry’s in a hurry." 

"Yeah, he’s off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant," said George, chortling.        

For some reason, Ginny didn’t find it amusing either.         

"Oh, don’t," she wailed every time Fred asked me loudly who I was planning to attack next, or when George pretended to ward me off with a large clove of garlic when we met.         

I didn’t mind; it made me feel better that Fred and George, at least, thought the idea of me being Slytherin’s heir was quite ludicrous. But their antics seemed to be aggravating Draco Malfoy, who looked increasingly sour each time he saw them at it.

"It’s because he’s bursting to say it’s really him," said Ron knowingly. "You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything, and you’re getting all the credit for his dirty work and the girl." 

"The girl?" I asked in confusion. 

"Well, Deli. Who else?" he replied.

Hermione simply rolled her eyes. "It won't be long, now," she said in a satisfied tone. "The Polyjuice Potion’s nearly ready. We’ll be getting the truth out of Malfoy any day now."         

At last the term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds descended on the castle. I found it peaceful, rather than gloomy, and enjoyed the fact that Delilah was back... even though a few defects were clearly noticeable (she couldn't remember anything from three weeks preceding the attack). Delilah, Hermione, the Weasleys and I had the run of Gryffindor Tower, which meant we could play Exploding Snap loudly without bothering anyone, and practice dueling in private. Fred, George, and Ginny had chosen to stay at school rather than visit Bill in Egypt with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Percy, who disapproved of what he termed their childish behavior, didn’t spend much time in the Gryffindor common room. He had already told them pompously that he was only staying over Christmas because it was his duty as a prefect to support the teachers during this troubled time.         

Christmas morning dawned, cold and white. Ron and I, the only ones left in our dormitory, were woken very early by Hermione and Delilah, who burst in, fully dressed and carrying presents for both the both of us.        

"Wake up," Hermione said loudly, pulling back the curtains at the window.        

"Hermione, Deli— you’re not supposed to be in here—" said Ron, shielding his eyes against the light.  

Delilah rolled her eyes. "Merry Christmas to you, too," she said, throwing him his present.

"Deli and I’ve been up for nearly an hour, adding more lacewings to the potion. It’s ready," Hermione said.        

I sat up, suddenly wide awake.        

"Are you sure?"        

"Positive," said Hermione, shifting Scabbers the rat so that she could sit down on the end of Ron’s four-poster. "If we’re going to do it, I say it should be tonight."        

At that moment, Hedwig swooped into the room, carrying a very small package in her beak.        

"Hello," I said happily as she landed on my bed. "Are you speaking to me again?" I could see Delilah smiling, from the corner of my eye as she came to sit next to me on my four-poster.

Hedwig nibbled my ear in an affectionate sort of way, which was a far better present than the one that she had brought me, which turned out to be from the Dursleys. They had sent me a toothpick and a note telling me to find out whether I'd be able to stay at Hogwarts for the summer vacation, too.

The rest of my Christmas presents were far more satisfactory. Hagrid had sent me a large tin of treacle fudge, which I decided to soften by the fire before eating; Ron had given me a book called Flying with the Cannons, a book of interesting facts about his favorite Quidditch team, Hermione had bought me a luxurious eagle-feather quill. I also another hand-knitted sweater from Mrs. Weasley and a large plum cake. I read her card with a fresh surge of guilt, thinking about Mr. Weasley’s car (which hadn’t been seen since its crash with the Whomping Willow), and the bout of rule-breaking Ron and I were planning next. After the gifts were open, Ron and Hermione went downstairs to the Common room, leaving me with sleeping beauty. She looked so beautiful there, curled up and wrapped in my blankets which I just realized were no longer around me.

I stroked her cheek with a smile before softly nudging her. "Deli, wake up," I whispered.

Her beautiful orange-pink morning glory-begonian eyes fluttered open and she smiled sheepishly when she saw me sitting beside her. I couldn't help but grin back.  

"Merry Christmas," I whispered.  

"Merry Christmas, Harry," she said, sitting up.  

"Before we go down stairs to join the others, I wanted to give you this. Ron doesn't know about it. Neither does Hermione," I said and handed her a small blue box with a bow tied on it. She grinned and took the present.  

"I have a secret something for you as well," she whispered and handed me a red box with a bow tied on it as well. I smiled.    

"We'll unwrap them at the same time," I said. She nodded.  

"One..." she murmured.  

"Two..." I continued.  

"Three," we both spoke at the same time and quickly opened our gifts.

As she opened her box, she looked inside and gasped. Placed perfectly within the little blue package was a golden locket with a heart-shaped diamond on it. She grinned as she hooked the golden locket that had a heart-shaped diamond on it around her neck.     

I stared at the golden item placed perfectly within the little red box. "It's a... a..." I stuttered, trying to find the right words as I felt my face beginning to turn red.   

"A Pocket watch. It belonged to my grandfather. It was with a few things I somehow managed to keep from my past after all these years," she explained softly. "As my first and bestest friend in the whole wide world, I want you to have it."   

I looked up at her. "Lilly," I whispered. "I-I... I can't accept this."   

Delilah shook her head. "Please? It would mean a lot to me. I have spent years not being able to give anything valuable to anyone who means so much to me. And I am pretty sure that if I ever met you and knew you before Hogwarts, and tried to give you something, I would not have been able to give you a proper gift without the Dursleys taking it away from you. It is the least you could do for me," she whispered.   

"Delilah Keren Aleah Hawkins, you are the bestest friend anyone could ever have. I promise that I'll never disappoint you and that I'll... love you forever," I said, my blushing face surely turning an even deeper shade of red as I pulled her into a tight hug. I could feel her smiling against my shoulder as she hugged me back.     

"I promise to never disappoint you and ...l-love you forever, as well, Harry," she whispered before we both pulled away and went to join the others. 

No one, not even someone dreading taking Polyjuice Potion later, could fail to enjoy Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.        

The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led us in a few of his favorite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed. Percy, who hadn’t noticed that Fred had bewitched his prefect badge so that it now read "Pinhead," kept asking us all what we were sniggering at.

I didn’t even care that Draco Malfoy was making loud, snide remark about my new sweater from the Slytherin table. With a bit of luck, Malfoy would be getting his comeuppance in a few hours’ time.        

Ron and I had barely finished our third helpings of Christmas pudding when Hermione and Delilah ushered us out of the hall to finalize our plans for the evening. 

"We still need a bit of the people you’re changing into," said Hermione matter-of-factly, as though she were sending them to the supermarket for laundry detergent. "And obviously, it’ll be best if you can get something of Crabbe’s and Goyle’s; they’re Malfoys best friends, he’ll tell  them anything. And we also need to make sure the real Crabbe and Goyle can’t burst in on us while we’re interrogating him. 

"I’ve got it all worked out," she went on smoothly, ignoring mine and Ron’s stupefied faces. She held up two plump chocolate cakes. "I’ve filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they are, they’re bound to eat them. Once they’re asleep, pull out a few of their hairs and hide them in a broom closet."         

Ron and I looked incredulously at each other.        

"Hermione, I don’t think —"         

"That could go seriously wrong—"         

But Hermione and Delilah had a steely glint in their eyes not unlike the one Professor McGonagall sometimes had.         

"The potion will be useless without Crabbe’s and Goyle’s hair," Delilah said sternly. 

"You do want to investigate Malfoy, don’t you?" Hermione added.

"Oh, all right, all right," I said. "But what about you, Hermione? Whose hair are you ripping out?"         

"I’ve already got mine!" said Hermione brightly, pulling a tiny bottle out of her pocket and showing us the single hair inside it. "Remember Millicent Bulstrode wrestling with me at the Dueling Club? She left this on my robes when she was trying to strangle me! And she’s gone home for Christmas— so I’ll just have to tell the Slytherins I’ve decided to come back." 

When Hermione and Delilah had bustled off to check on the Polyjuice Potion again, Ron turned to me with a doom-laden expression.         

"Have you ever heard of a plan where so many things could go wrong?"         

But to mine and Ron’s utter amazement, stage one of the operation went just as smoothly as Hermione had said. We lurked in the deserted entrance hall after Christmas tea, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle who had remained alone at the Slytherin table, shoveling down fourth helpings of trifle. I had perched the chocolate cakes on the end of the banisters. When we spotted Crabbe and Goyle coming out of the Great Hall, Ron and I hid quickly behind a suit of armor next to the front door.         

"How thick can you get?" Ron whispered ecstatically as Crabbe gleefully pointed out the cakes to Goyle and grabbed them. Grinning stupidly, they stuffed the cakes whole into their large mouths. For a moment, both of them chewed greedily, looks of triumph on their faces. Then, without the smallest change of expression, they both keeled over backward onto the floor.         

By far the hardest part was hiding them in the closet across the hall. Once they were safely stowed among the buckets and mops, I yanked out a couple of the bristles that covered Goyle’s forehead and Ron pulled out several of Crabbe’s hairs. We also stole their shoes, because our own were far too small for Crabbe and Goyle-size feet. Then, still stunned at what we had just done, we sprinted up to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.         

We could hardly see for the thick black smoke issuing from the stall in which Hermione and Delilah were stirring the cauldron. Pulling our robes up over our faces, Ron and I knocked softly on the door.         

"Hermione? Deli?"        

We heard the scrape of the lock and Hermione emerged, shiny-faced and looking anxious. Behind her we heard Delilah chuckling and the gloop gloop of the bubbling, glutinous potion. Three glass tumblers stood ready on the toilet seat.        

"Did you get them?" Hermione asked breathlessly.         

I showed her Goyle’s hair.         

"Good. And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry," Hermione said, holding up a small sack. "You’ll need bigger sizes once you’re Crabbe and Goyle."         

The four of us stared into the cauldron. Close up, the potion looked like thick, dark mud, bubbling sluggishly.         

"I’m sure Deli and I've done everything right," said Hermione, nervously rereading the splotched page of Moste Potente Potions and glancing nervously a Delilah. 

Delilah pursed her lips and slightly frowned. "It looks like the book says it should... once you have drunk it, you will have—" 

"Exactly an hour before we change back into ourselves," Hermione finished, Delilah nodding in agreement. 

Delilah sighed and stood up from beside Hermione. "Well, I better go. I told... Ginny I would meet up with her. I will see you later, alright?" 

Hermione, Ron and I nodded. Delilah smiled and hugged Hermione and Ron then hugged me and kissed my cheek. "Good luck," she said, and with that, she left. 

"Now what?" Ron whispered.         

Hermione took a deep breath. "We separate it into three glasses and add the hairs."        

Hermione ladled large dollops of the potion into each of the glasses. Then, her hand trembling, she shook Millicent Bulstrode’s hair out of its bottle into the first glass. 

The potion hissed loudly like a boiling kettle and frothed madly. A second later, it had turned a sick sort of yellow.         

"Urgh— essence of Millicent Bulstrode," said Ron, eyeing it with loathing. "Bet it tastes disgusting." 

"Add yours, then," said Hermione.         

I dropped Goyle’s hair into the middle glass and Ron put Crabbe’s into the last one. Both glasses hissed and frothed: Goyle’s turned the khaki color of a booger, Crabbe’s a dark, murky brown.       

"Hang on," I said as Ron and Hermione reached for their glasses. "We’d better not all drink them in here... Once we turn into Crabbe and Goyle we won’t fit. And Millicent Bulstrode’s no pixie."         

"Good thinking," said Ron, unlocking the door. "We’ll take separate stalls."         

Careful not to spill a drop of my Polyjuice Potion, I slipped into the middle stall.        

"Ready?" I called.         

"Ready," came Ron’s and Hermione’s voices.         

"One— two— three—"         

Pinching my nose, I drank the potion down in two large gulps. It tasted like overcooked cabbage.         

Immediately, my insides started writhing as though I'd just swallowed live snakes— doubled up, I wondered whether I was going to be sick— then a burning sensation spread rapidly from my stomach to the very ends of my fingers and toes— next, bringing me gasping to all fours, came a horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over my body bubbled like hot wax— and before my eyes, my hands began to grow, the fingers thickened, the nails broadened, the knuckles were bulging like bolts— my shoulders stretched painfully and a prickling on my forehead told me that hair was creeping down toward my eyebrows— my robes ripped as my chest expanded like a barrel bursting its hoops— my feet were agony in shoes four sizes too small.         

As suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. I lay facedown on the stone-cold floor, listening to Myrtle gurgling morosely in the end toilet. With difficulty, I kicked off my shoes and stood up. 

So this was what it felt like, being Goyle.

My large hand trembling, I pulled off my old robes, which were hanging a foot above my ankles, pulled on the spare ones, and laced up Goyle’s boatlike shoes. I reached up to brush my hair out of my eyes and met only the short growth of wiry bristles, low on my forehead. 

Then I realized that my glasses were clouding my eyes because Goyle obviously didn’t need them— I took them off and called, 

"Are you two okay?" Goyle’s low rasp of a voice issued from my mouth.         

"Yeah," came the deep grunt of Crabbe from my right.        

I unlocked my door and stepped in front of the cracked mirror. Goyle stared back at me out of dull, deep-set eyes. I scratched my ear. So did Goyle.         

Ron’s door opened. We stared at each other. Except that he looked pale and shocked, Ron was indistinguishable from Crabbe, from the pudding-bowl haircut to the long, gorilla arms.         

"This is unbelievable," said Ron, approaching the mirror and prodding Crabbe’s flat nose. "Unbelievable... I understand why Deli didn't want to do this."

"We’d better get going," I said, loosening the watch that was cutting into Goyle’s thick wrist. "We’ve still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is. I only hope we can find someone to follow..."         

Ron, who had been gazing at me, said, "You don’t know how bizarre it is to see Goyle thinking." He banged on Hermione’s door. "C’mon, we need to go—"       

A high-pitched voice answered him.         

"I — I don’t think I’m going to come after all. You go on without me."         

"Hermione, we know Millicent Bulstrode’s ugly, no one’s going to know it’s you—"        

"No— really— I don’t think I’ll come. You two hurry up, you’re wasting time—"         

I looked at Ron, bewildered.         

"That looks more like Goyle," said Ron. "That’s how he looks every time a teacher asks him a question."         

"Hermione, are you okay?" I said through the door.         

"Fine— I’m fine— go on—"         

I looked at my watch. Five of our precious sixty minutes had already passed.         

"We’ll meet you back here, all right?" I said.        

Ron and I opened the door of the bathroom carefully, checked that the coast was clear, and set off. 

When we met up with Malfoy, it was kind of a relief no matter how much I hate him, he did kind of save us from giving any further explanation to Percy, Ron's brother, whom we had come across on our search for the Slytherin Common room. Though the relief I felt only lasted for about a second when Malfoy sneered at Percy and motioned Ron slash Crabbe and me slash Goyle to follow him. I almost said something apologetic to Percy but caught myself just in time. Ron and I hurried after Malfoy, who said as they turned into the next passage, "That Peter Weasley—"         

"Percy," Ron corrected him automatically.        

"Whatever," said Malfoy. "I’ve noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he’s up to. He thinks he’s going to catch Slytherin’s heir single-handed." 

He gave a short, derisive laugh. Ron and I exchanged excited looks.         

Malfoy paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.        

"What’s the new password again?" he said to me.        

"Er —" I said.         

"Oh, yeah— pure-blood!" said Malfoy, not listening, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. Malfoy marched through it, and Ron and I followed him. 

The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs.         

"Wait here," said Malfoy to Ron and I, motioning us to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I’ll go and get it my father’s just sent it to me—"         

Wondering what Malfoy was going to show us, Ron and I sat down, doing our best to look at home.         

Malfoy came back a minute later, holding what looked like a newspaper clipping. He thrust it under Ron’s nose.         

"That’ll give you a laugh," he said.        

I saw Ron’s eyes widen in shock. He read the clipping quickly, gave a very forced laugh, and handed it to me.   

It had been clipped out of the  _Daily Prophet_ , and it said:      

_INQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_  

_Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a Muggle car._  

_Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the enchanted car crashed earlier this year, called today for Mr. Weasley’s resignation._

_“Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute,” Mr. Malfoy told our reporter. “He is clearly unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately.”_

_Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she’d set the family ghoul on them._

"Well?" said Malfoy impatiently as I handed the clipping back to him. "Don’t you think it’s funny?"         

"Ha, ha," I said bleakly.        

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," said Malfoy scornfully. "You’d never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave."         

Ron’s— or rather, Crabbe’s— face was contorted with fury.        

"What’s up with you, Crabbe?" snapped Malfoy.        

"Stomachache," Ron grunted.        

"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," said Malfoy, snickering. "You know, I’m surprised the Daily Prophet hasn’t reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "I suppose Dumbledore’s trying to hush it all up. He’ll be sacked if it doesn’t stop soon. Father’s always said old Dumbledore’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never’ve let slime like that Creevey in."        

Malfoy started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of Colin: 

"'Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?'"         

He dropped his hands and looked at Ron and I.         

"What’s the matter with you two?" 

Far too late, Ron an I forced ourselves to laugh, but Malfoy seemed satisfied; perhaps Crabbe and Goyle were always slow on the uptake.        

"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods’ friend," said Malfoy slowly. "He’s another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn’t go around with that jumped up Granger Mudblood. And people think he’s Slytherin’s heir!"         

Ron and I waited with bated breath: Malfoy was surely seconds away from telling us it was him, but then—

"I wish I knew who it is," said Malfoy petulantly. "I could help them."        

Ron’s jaw dropped so that Crabbe looked even more clueless than usual.

Fortunately, Malfoy didn’t notice, and I, thinking fast, said, "You must have some idea who’s behind it all..."

"You know I haven’t, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Malfoy. "And Father won’t tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it’ll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing— last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it’s a matter of time before one of them’s killed this time... I hope it’s Granger," he said with relish.        

Ron was clenching Crabbe’s gigantic fists. 

Feeling that it would be a bit of a giveaway if Ron punched Malfoy, even though I personally wouldn't mind if he did, I shot him a warning look and said, "D’you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?" 

"Oh, yeah... whoever it was was expelled," said Malfoy. "They’re probably still in Azkaban."         

"Azkaban?" I said, puzzled.        

"Azkaban— the wizard prison, Goyle," said Malfoy, looking at him in disbelief. "Honestly, if you were any slower, you’d be going backward."         

He shifted restlessly in his chair and said, "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he’s got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"         

I tried to force Goyle’s dull face into a look of concern.         

"Yeah..." said Malfoy. "Luckily, they didn’t find much. Father’s got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we’ve got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor—"         

"Ho!" said Ron.        

Malfoy looked at him. So did I. Ron blushed. Even his hair was turning red. His nose was also slowly lengthening— our hour was up, Ron was turning back into himself, and from the look of horror he was suddenly giving me, I must be, too. 

We both jumped to our feet.         

"Medicine for my stomach," Ron grunted, and without further ado we sprinted the length of the Slytherin common room, hurled themselves at the stone wall, and dashed up the passage, hoping against hope that Malfoy hadn’t noticed anything. I could feel my feet slipping around in Goyle’s huge shoes and had to hoist up my robes as I shrank; we crashed up the steps into the dark entrance hall, which was full of a muffled pounding coming from the closet where we'd locked Crabbe and Goyle. Leaving their shoes outside the closet door, we sprinted in our socks up the marble staircase toward Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. 

**Delilah's P.O.V.**  

I made my way back to the girl's bathroom after spending almost the entire hour with the crazy Weasley twins and a nervous Ginny. What worried me was that she wouldn't tell me what was wrong. Every time I asked her she quickly changed the subject and avoided my eyes. 

The first thing I heard when I opened the door of Myrtle's bathroom was an unfamiliar sob followed by a few giggles. I closed the door behind me and stepped forward only to find Moaning Myrtle giggling above the bathroom sinks. 

"What are laughing at, Myrtle?" I asked. She stopped and looked at me in disbelief for a moment before giggling again. 

"Ooooooh, wait till you see," she said. "It’s—" She didn't finish as she wouldn't stop giggling. 

"See what, Myrtle? Have they come back? What is going on... is something wrong?" Something must be wrong; she never giggles, that's why she's called Moaning Myrtle. All she ever does is moan all the time. 

She didn't answer. She just kept giggling like a dead idiot. 

Letting out a loud sigh in exasperation, I took a deep breath before sniffing the air. 

"ATCHOOM!" 

Whoa, something is definitely wrong. I never sneeze, for one because I never get sick from me a soul shifter, but also because so far, I've never been allergic to anything. And, well... I was here earlier, so why would I sneeze now? I sniffed the air again and that was when I caught the scents I was looking for. 

Hermione... sniff... and.... sniff... a cat? Hermione doesn't have a cat. 

"Hermione?" I called out, trying hard to ignore Myrtle's annoying giggles while doing my best not to sneeze again. 

"Go away!" Hermione squeaked.         

I frowned and quickly made my way to her stall. 

"Hermione, open up." 

"No."

"Hermione," I warned. 

I heard the lock slide back and Hermione emerged, sobbing even louder and harder, her robes pulled up over her head.     

"What is wrong?" I asked softly. "Tell me— you know you can tell me anything." 

Hermione let her robes fall and I gasped, bringing my hands to my mouth.        

Hermione's face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair.         

"It was a c-cat hair!" she whispered. "And the p-potion isn’t supposed to be used for animal transformations!" 

"Oh my goddess of the moon," I murmured under my breath. I was about to sneeze again, but I held it in. I bit my lower lip. 

"It will fine, Hermione," I said softly, rubbing her shoulder. "Stay here and I will clean up the mess. When I finish, I will take you to the hospital wing, alright?" 

She nodded then locked herself up in her bathroom stall again. 

It was taking quite a while to clean up the mess, but I had had some experience before, so I knew how to get the job done. As I was scrubbing the sink where I threw the rest of the Polyjuice potion, I heard the door of the bathroom close followed by footsteps.         

"Hermione, come out, we’ve got loads to tell you—" My eyes widened. I quickly left the sink and was about to run towards Hermione's stall, but tripped and twisted my ankle. Ugh! Seriously?! How the heck am being this weak?       

"Go away!" Hermione squeaked.         

I pushed myself up and limped towards the stall only to find Ron and Harry standing in front of it.       

"What’s the matter?" said Ron. "You must be back to normal by now, we are." Harry noticed me and was about to smile but stopped when he saw I frantically started making gestures pointing toward Ron to get Harry to stop him from going on.      

But Moaning Myrtle glided suddenly through the stall door happily, not really helping my point.         

"Ooooooh, wait till you see," she said. "It’s awful—"         

The lock slide back and Hermione emerged, still sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head again like she had before.         

"What’s up?" said Ron uncertainly. I groaned internally, shaking my hand in front of my neck and mouthing  _'stop'_. "Have you still got Millicent’s nose or something?"       

Hermione let her robes fall and Ron backed into the sink.   

"It was a cat hair!" she howled. "M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the p-potion isn’t supposed to be used for animal transformations!"  
  
"Uh-oh," said Ron.

"You’ll be teased something dreadful," said Myrtle happily.        

"It’s okay, Hermione," said Harry quickly. "We’ll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions..."        

It took a long time to persuade Hermione to leave the bathroom. Myrtle sped us on our way with a hearty guffaw. "Wait till everyone finds out you’ve got a tail!"

Let me just say: she is so lucky she is already dead...


	15. Dang... I thought I hated Bludgers, Valentine's day is worse!

My birthday was... dull, my friends did everything they could to make it perfect. Hermione remained in the hospital wing for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumor about her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, because of course everyone thought that she had been attacked. So many students filed past the hospital wing trying to catch a glimpse of her that Madam Pomfrey took out her curtains again and placed them around Hermione’s bed, to spare her the shame of being seen with a furry face.        

Harry, Ron and I went to visit her every evening. When the new term started, we brought her each day’s homework.        

"If I’d sprouted whiskers, I’d take a break from work," said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione’s bedside table one evening.        

"Don’t be silly, Ron, I’ve got to keep up" said Hermione briskly. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown. "I don’t suppose you’ve got any new leads?" she added in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey couldn’t hear her.      

I sighed. "Nothing," I said gloomily.      

"I was so sure it was Malfoy," said Ron, for about the hundredth time.        

"What’s that?" asked Harry, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione’s pillow.        

"Just a get well card," said Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her.

He pulled it out, flicked it open, and read aloud:    

" _To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award_."

Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted.        

"You sleep with this under your pillow?" I asked in disbelief.        

But Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine.        

"Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you’ve ever met, or what?" Ron said to Harry and I as we left the infirmary and started up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower.  

Snape had given us so much homework, I thought I was likely to be in the sixth year before I finished it. Ron was just saying he wished he had asked Hermione how many rat tails you were supposed to add to a Hair Raising Potion when an angry outburst from the floor above reached our ears.

"That’s Filch," Harry muttered as we hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard.        

"You don’t think someone else’s been attacked?" said Ron tensely.        

We stood still, our heads inclined toward Filch's voice, which sounded quite hysterical.        

"Even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven’t got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I’m going to Dumbledore—"        

His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor and we heard a distant door slam.

We poked our heads around the corner. Filch had clearly been manning his usual lookout post: We were once again on the spot where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. We saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Now that Filch had stopped shouting, we could hear Myrtle’s wails echoing off the bathroom walls. I rolled my eyes and sighed as my head started pounding.      

"Now what’s up with her?" said Ron.        

"Let’s go and see," said Harry, grabbing my hand and starting to pull me along with him, but I pulled back.

I shook my head. "I am going to head to the Common room... I do not feel so good."

Harry looked at me, concern filling his eyes. "Are you sure? Are you going to be all right?"

I nodded.

"Then we'll tell you what's going on after," Ron said. "Go rest."

I smiled. "Alright. Be careful, you two. And stay out of trouble." With that, I spun on my heels and made my way to the Common room.

As soon as I climbed through the portrait, the first thing I heard was sobbing. I quickly ran up the stairs and burst into the girls' dormitory only to find Ginny crying.

I rushed over to her and grabbed her face in my hands. "What is wrong Ginny?"  

"I- I- I threw the- the- the diary away."  

I gave her a confused look. "The dia— wha— what diary are you talking about, Ginny?"

She looked up at me with wide eyes. "It made me— you lost your— oh, no!"

"Ginny, what is—"

She held a hand up to silence me while she wiped her tears away with the other. "Okay.... do you remember the diary I had?"

I gave her a weird look though tried hard to remember. "I... er... remember seeing you write in a notebook? Very, very often— is that the diary you are talking about?"

"Yes! That's it!

"Ginny, you are far from telling me you poi—" I didn't get to finish what I was saying as I was cut off by a gasp escaping my lips when suddenly an unbearable, inexplicable pain shot through the right lower side of my upper body, right in between my kidney and bottom right of my abdomen.

I was frozen.

Literally.

I didn't understand what was happening.

Heat suddenly unlocked my frozen muscles. Burning heat. I didn’t know what I was doing; I stood there, trembling, ready to bolt for the very first escape that I could think of as all I saw was red. But what escape? I wasn't trying to run from anything so why did I feel like I was trying to escape?

"Deli?" Ginny hesitated, looking at me then around in panic. I involuntarily growled, but then internally sighed in relief as the pain started disappear.

"I am fine," I said. "I do not know why I suddenly started feeling pain but I am fine." As soon as I finished talking, as if to mock me or prove me wrong, the pain came back even harder came back even worse than before. I griped the spot where it hurt and started breathing heavily as I fell down on my knees.

The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that I no longer knew where I was— white-hot knives were piercing every inch of my skin, of my scars, reopening a few here and there, my head was surely going to burst with pain; I was suddenly screaming, every second more loudly than I'd ever screamed in my entire life. I was screaming my lungs out before everything suddenly went black.

I must've woken up several times, but what I heard and saw made no sense, so I just passed out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, someone softly pressing a wet cloth on my forehead as someone else sang. The feminine voice was so soft and angelic that I couldn't help but drifting off back to sleep, lulled by the angelic voice.

The next time I woke up, I was alone.

When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except that they were nicer than I was used to. I slowly sat up and started inspecting my whereabouts. I was in my room, lying on my bed with Thunder curled up by my side Atlas ear my head while Ginny was asleep on the window seat. Thunder barked, making me slightly jump and Ginny fall off the window seat. I looked down at my baby husky only to be shocked; he'd grown a lot ever since I got him and I hadn't even realized it until now.

"Deli! Are you alright? You were screaming and I had to bring you here before— and I know you don't like the hospital wing very much— I was so worried you might—"

"I am fine, Ginny," I assured her, sending her a small smile. She let out a long relieved sigh before smiling at me excitedly.

"It's almost Valentine's day!"

I gave her a confused look. "Valen... what?"

Her eyes widened in shock. "You don't know what Valentine's day is?" I shook my head. "Well... it's an event that occurs on the 14th of February. It's a day when it is traditional to send a card, often anonymously, to a person one is romantically involved with or attracted to... it's often that way that people hook up."

I nearly chocked on my own saliva as I looked at her in disbelief. "Hook up?"

She nodded and gave me a look that said 'it's pretty obvious', but it wasn't to me. "Yeah, you know... when they become boyfriend and girlfriend."

For some reason, I felt myself starting to blush as I remembered that day in Flourish and Blotts. But why was I blushing? I didn't even know what boyfriend or girlfriend meant... which actually made my blush darken.

Ginny gasped and looked at me with wide eyes. "You don't know what that means either?!" I looked down at my hands in embarrassment as I shook my head. I peeked from under my lashes at Ginny only to see her staring at thin air with a shocked look on her face.

She looked at me and her expression turned into a mischievous one which almost made me regret even asking her about Valentine's day.

"Okay... well, a girlfriend is a regular female companion while a boyfriend is a male companion with whom a person has a romantic relationship involving  _love_ ," Ginny explained, emphasizing on the word 'love'.

I was sure that, by now, my face was as red as a Weasley usually gets, remembering all the times people referred to me as Harry's... girlfriend. Even Ginny had called me so at Flourish and Blotts when we encountered the Malfoys.

"B-but Harry and I are not—"

"I know you're not, but you will be," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. I sighed and rolled my eyes; she didn't understand, my heart already belonged to someone else even if that someone was dead.

As we made our way down the stairs, I suddenly heard Harry and Ron's voices coming from the staircase leading to the boys' dormitory.

"I wish I knew why someone did try to chuck it," I heard Harry say. "I wouldn’t mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts either."

"Could’ve been anything," I heard Ron reply. "But even so, you shouldn't do anything with that thing covered in toilet water."

"What?"

Ron let out a long exasperated sigh. "This is that mirror from last year all over again."        

"How?"

"Harry, it could be dangerous!"        

"Dangerous?" said Harry, laughing. "Come off it, how could it be dangerous?"      

"How what could be dangerous?" I asked as Ginny and I descended the last flight of stairs.

Both boys spun on their heels and looked at me. For some reason, their mouths fell open and their eyes widened as they saw me, making Ginny giggle from behind me.

"What?" I asked, looking down at myself in confusion. I turned to look at Ginny and gave her a wary look just as Hermione joined us. As soon as she saw me, she gasped.

"What?!" I exclaimed myself, touching myself, making sure I'm not missing anything and that I didn't have anything unnecessary on me. Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and shared knowing look before giggling.

"Is there something on my face?" I asked.

"Well... not exactly," Hermione said. I looked at Harry and Ron only to see them blushing like mad but still looking at me with wide eyes and their mouths hanging open.

"Let's just say the change you went through when you were... attacked emphasized while you slept earlier," Ginny said.

"Change... what?" I asked confused. I didn't even know I had gone through a change after my attack... or what changed. Hermione rolled her eyes and linked an arm with one of mine while Ginny did the same with my free one.

"Let's just say you're going to have a lot more admirers than you've ever had, starting today," Hermione said excitedly.

"You might even be asked out on a date before Valentine's day!" Ginny piped.

"A date?"

"Yeah, when guys usually ask girls to be their girlfriends," Hermione said.

My eyes widened. "Oh... er... how do I know I am being asked out on a date?" I asked them as both girls started pulling me towards the portrait hole.

"Well, the guy will come up to you and'll go all 'Hey, wanna go out with me?' Of course, not exactly that way, some are shy and ask it in a different way, though it usually comes down to the same phrase," Ginny answered expertedly.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "And you know this... how?"

Ginny blushed. "I've heard a few things from my mum..."

I bit back a smile and shook my head then sighed. "What do I answer them?"

Hermione's brows furrowed. "Well that depends on how you feel now, doesn't it? If you like the boy and wouldn't mind becoming his girlfriend further on than you say 'yes', but if you only like him as a friend than you let them know in the nicest possible way, and if he keeps insisting on it—"

"You come straight forward and tell him firmly how you don't want to go out with him," Ginny finished.

I nodded but then blushed. "But I have never been asked out on a date before, I do not know how to tell someone that I do or do not..."

"No!"

The three of us turned to look at Harry who was looking at me with his face flushed, and Ron also staring at him with a now raised eyebrow.

"What?" the four of us asked him.

"You say no, and if he insists then beat him!"

My eyes widened in shock as I stared at Harry in disbelief. What has gotten into him? I turned to look at the youngest Weasleys and Hermione only to find them smirking at Harry and I. I found my earlier blush returning harder. Why was I blushing so much today?

"Harry? A-are you okay?" I asked barely in a whisper now as I pulled my arms away from Ginny and Hermione and stepped forward toward Harry.

His face reddened even more. "Uh.... yeah... er... we should go eat, now," he quickly said. I nodded and grabbed his hand before pulling him towards the portrait hole followed by a snickering Ron, and giggling Ginny and Hermione. As soon as we stepped out, I frowned and mentally face-palmed myself remembering I didn't leave anything to eat in my room for Thunder and Atlas. As we made our way towards the Great Hall, I brought my wand out with my free hand and flicked, making food appear for my companions back in my room and making the window open in case Atlas wanted to go for a fly. And well... let's just say, dinner went on pretty awkwardly.

The sun had now begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again. Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Justin, Nearly Headless Nick and I, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood. I was only becoming more and more confused as to the mood swings in my surroundings as I am usually the one with all the mood changes.      

"The moment their acne clears up, they’ll be ready for repotting again," I heard Madame Pomfrey telling Filch kindly one afternoon. "And after that, it won’t be long until we’re cutting them up and stewing them. You’ll have Mrs. Norris back in no time."      

Perhaps the Heir of Slytherin had lost his or her nerve, I thought. It must be getting riskier and riskier to open the Chamber of Secrets, with the school so alert and suspicious. Perhaps the monster, whatever it was, was even now settling itself down to hibernate for another fifty years... okay, not likely, but let's hope? For some reason, I had the feeling that I had somehow figured out this whole puzzle out, but I forgot after my attack. Garr! This is so frustrating! If only we could just get this over with.      

Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff was really starting to annoy me not only because unlike the rest of his house, he wasn't taking this cheerful view. He was still convinced that Harry was the guilty one, that he had "given himself away" at the Dueling Club, and... well, he was the first one to ask me out on a date before Van... Valens... whatever that day was while Harry was standing right next to me... can you imagine the outcome that is inexplicable to me? And Peeves wasn’t helping matters; he kept popping up in the crowded corridors singing, "Oh, Potter, you rotter..." now with a dance routine to match and winking at me every time he noticed a guy looking at me, making me blush.      

Gilderoy Lockhart seemed to think he himself had made the attacks stop. Harry and I overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so while the Gryffindors were lining up for Transfiguration. "I don’t think there’ll be any more trouble, Minerva," he said, tapping his nose knowingly and winking. "I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught him. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on him. You know, what the school needs now is a morale-booster. Wash away the memories of last term! I won’t say any more just now, but I think I know just the thing..."      

He tapped his nose again and strode off.  

Lockhart’s idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February fourteenth. I felt like I was going to regret leaving my bed today; I hadn’t had much sleep because of a late-running Quidditch practice the night before. After leaving some food for Thunder and Atlas and leaving the window open, I hurried down, with Harry, to the Great Hall, slightly late. I thought, for a moment, that I'd walked through the wrong doors.        

The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. Harry grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the Gryffindor table, where Ron was sitting looking sickened, and Hermione seemed to have been overcome with giggles.        

As if reading my mind, Harry asked them, "What’s going on?" sitting down and taking confetti off my hair.        

Ron pointed to the teachers’ table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where I sat, I could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall’s cheek. Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Skele- Gro.        

"Happy Valentine’s Day!" Lockhart shouted. My eyes widened. Now I get why I didn't want to leave my room this morning. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all— and it doesn’t end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.        

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!"      

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.        

"Please, Hermione, tell me you weren’t one of the forty-six," said Ron as we started making our way out  the Great Hall for our first lesson. Hermione suddenly became very interested in searching her bag for her schedule and didn’t answer. Before we could leave, I don't know what came over me, but I quickly made a  _lily_  appear and walked up to the teachers' table... to Snape.

He turned his gaze away from me. "If you're going to give me a flow—"

"It's a lily," I cut him off, surprising myself by not speaking properly as I usually do. His head snapped back towards me as I held the flower up to him. "I know this reminds you of something... or someone."

He slowly took the lily and gave me a rare soft smile to which I responded with a kind one of my own, making his eyes widen for some reason.

"Happy Valentine's day, Severus," I said softly before turning on my heels and leaving the Great Hall, ignoring my friends' questions, but not before turning to lance one last time at my potions' teacher only to see his eyes starting to water. I internally smiled, as he looked at me one last time before I left.

I don't know why I did what I did, but something told me it was the right thing to do.

**Snape's P.O.V. _(shocker, I know!)_**

I was watching the Valentine's day feast with what I was sure was a disgusted look on my face. I hated Valentine's day. It only reminded me of Lilly and... Ellie. I let my gaze wander around the Great Hall until my eyes fell upon... Delilah. What was this girl up to now?

I watched her warily as she approached me, holding something I couldn't pay attention to as my focus was only on her. It was uncanny how much she looked like Ella-Grace the last time I saw her after her...  _change_.

Delilah looked directly into my coal black eyes with her strange orange-pink morning glory-begonian ones which I somehow knew, without a doubt, would soon change into their  _real_  color.

She stared at me for a few seconds before holding out what I just realized was a flower.

I averted my gaze away from her. "If you're going to give me a flow—"

"It's a lily," she cut me off, surprising myself by not speaking properly as she usually does. My head snapped back towards her as she held the flower up to me. "I know this reminds you of something... or someone."

I slowly took the lily and gave her a rare soft smile to which she responded with a kind one of her own, making my eyes widen. She looked just like Ellie at that specific moment, her eyes quickly flashing for a second to their true color:  _violet orchidee_.

"Happy Valentine's day, Severus," she said softly before turning on her heels and making her way back to her friends. My eyes started to water and I suddenly wasn't in the Great Hall anymore...

_I was sitting under a tree by the Black Lake, just looking at the water. I didn't want to stay at the feast because... I simply hate Valentine's day._

_"Hey, hey, hey!" said a voice coming from behind me, sending shivers down my spine. I know I've know her for years, but her voice always seems to shock me; it always sounded so angelic, like if she was singing._

_"How's my little Sevvy?" she asked, plopping down on te damp grass beside me._

_I rolled my eyes. "I already told you not to call me that... Ellie-Gracie," I said, fighting back a smile._

_She scowled at me and playfully nudged my shoulder. "I already told you not to call me that," she said, mocking my voice before pouting, making me roll my eyes and look back at the water. "You know it's either Ellie, Elle or Ells, but never say the Grace or Gracie, Sev." From the corner of my eye, I saw her bring something out of her robes. I rolled my eyes again; I didn't want a stupid flower._

_"If you're going to give me a flow—"_

_"It's a lily," she cut me off. My head snapped towards her as she held the flower up to me. "I know this reminds you of something... or someone," she added, wiggling her eyebrows and slightly nudging me._

_I slowly took the lily and gave her a rare soft smile to which she responded with a kind one of her own, making my heart skip a beat. She was as beautiful as she always is. Her light brown hair falling down in long silky curtains all the way to her mid-back, her dark yet pale skin and her violet orchidee eyes... she was the exact definition of perfect, physically and psychologically with her bright attitude and always seeing the good in others, always standing up for others and herself— a true Gryffindor. And as much as I despised Gryffindors, Ella and Lilly seemed the only ones I could like. Lilly, because she's been my friend since before Hogwarts, Ella-Grace, because she was the first and only one, after Lilly, to accept me as I am, and I was glad to still have her as my friend after the four years we've been at Hogwarts, now._

_I snapped out of thoughts when she spoke up again. "So why aren't you inside? All the girls miss you," she said in her voice that rang and shimmered like a bell._

_I scoffed. "As if, you know I hate Valentine's day."_

_It was her turn to roll her eyes before she laughed lightly, and it sounded like a chorus of bells. "Just because you can't find the courage to tell Lilly how you feel? Oh, come off it, Sev!" she exclaimed herself. "That shouldn't stop you from having a good time."_

_"She doesn't love me that way," I muttered._

_She furrowed her brows. "You don't know that, and besides, having her as your best friend is better than nothing, Sev, and you know it."_

_I looked into her violet orchidee eyes and sighed. "I know, but... I just don't know how to act around her, especially on Valentine's day... I don't even know how to act around **you**  ever!" I exclaimed myself. My eyes widened; I just gave away that I liked her more than I should... more than Lilly._

_She studied me for a moment with an unreadable expression. "You've never had a girlfriend," she said, though it wasn't a question, she stated it._

_I looked down at my hands, feeling a faint blush creeping up to my cheeks. "No."_

_"Severus... have you ever kissed a girl?"_

_I shook my head no. It was so quiet._

_"Not even when you were little? B... before we met?"_

_Again, I shook my head, placing the flower on my lap._

_She sighed and shocked me with what she said next. "I know that you know that I like Damien very much. And I know that I told you not to think much of Lilly that way because it could only wreck your friendship... and I also remember I told you not to think of **me**  that way. And I know that we can't be together like that. But I want to forget it all for a minute... Okay?"    _

_"Okay," I replied though it came out a whisper._

_"I want to make sure that the first person you kiss... loves you, Sev. Alright?" she said though it was hard to focus because of her soft and bell-like voice and her violet orchidee eyes that made me feel like she was looking into my soul by the way she looked at me._

_"Okay."_

_I could see tears threatening to fall from her eyes now. Tears were threatening to fall from mine too, because when I hear something like that I just can't help it._

_"I just want to make sure of that. Okay?" she whispered, leaning in closer. My breath was now shaking, I was nervous._

_"Okay."_

_She grabbed my face and kissed me._

_I was confused, not knowing what to do, but I still didn't hesitate in kissing her back. I let one hand cup her soft warm cheek and placed the other on her waist as our lips moved in sync._

_I was overwhelmed, overjoyed, but still confused. Not only because I had no idea what I was doing, but because of the way she proceeded. Her hands were soft on my face and her warm lips were gentle, unexpectedly hesitant. It was brief, but very, very sweet. It was the kind of kiss that I could never tell anyone, especially Lilly, about out loud. It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life until I met Lilly Evans..._

_Until I met Ella-Grace Aurelia Dawn._

_She slowly pulled away and looked at me with something unreadable in her eyes before she hugged me._

_And I closed my eyes because I wanted to know nothing but her arms. And she kissed my cheek and whispered so nobody could hear... not that anyone was around._

_"I love you."_

_I knew that she meant it in a friendly way, but I didn't care because it was the first time that I heard it from anyone. Not even my mother would tell me that._

_"I love you, too," I whispered, closing my eyes for a few seconds before she pulled away and stared off at the water of the Black Lake. We were silent for a moment before she turned back to me with a small smile and pecked my cheek._

_"Happy Valentine's day, Severus," she said softly before standing up and making her way back to the castle, but not before calling over her shoulder, "See you in potions."_

_I let out a loud long sigh, resting my back against the tree. I could still feel the tingles where her lips touched mine. I sighed again and closed my eyes, drifting away._

I opened my eyes and looked toward the entrance of the Great Hall where Delilah was looking at me. She spun heels and making her way out the Great Hall, but not before turning to glance one last time at me as my eyes started to water again, just thinking of how she would look  _exactly_  like  _her_  by next year...

**Delilah's P.O.V.**

The rest of the day, the dwarfs kept barging into our classes to deliver valentines to me and sing to me and... well, let's just say I blushed a lot today especially when I was asked out on dates by about twelve different guys, Lee Jordan being one of them. Harry and Ron helped me as much as possible, though it wasn't getting any easier as dwarves kept appearing everywhere, chasing after me. Just when we thought it was finally overt that late afternoon as we were walking upstairs for Charms, one of the dwarfs caught up with... Harry.  

Well this should be interesting.

**Harry's P.O.V.**

"Oy, you! ‘Arry Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to me.        

Hot all over at the thought of being given a valentine in front of a line of first years  _and_  Delilah, I tried to escape. The dwarf, however, cut his way through the crowd by kicking people’s shins, and reached me before I'd gone two paces.

"I’ve got a musical message to deliver to ‘Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.        

"Not here," I hissed, trying to escape. I didn't want to receive anything in front of Delilah that might ruin my chances with her.      

"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of my bag and pulling me back.        

"Let me go!" I snarled, tugging.        

With a loud ripping noise, my bag split in two. My books, wand, parchment, and quill spilled  onto the floor and my ink bottle smashed over everything.        

I scrambled around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf started singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor.        

"What’s going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. I started stuffing everything feverishly into my ripped bag, desperate to get away before Malfoy could hear my musical valentine.        

"What’s all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived.        

Losing my head, I tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized me around the knees and brought me crashing to the floor.        

"Right," he said, sitting on my ankles. "Here is your singing valentine:      

_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,_

_His hair is as dark as a blackboard,_

_I wish he was mine,_

_he’s really divine,_

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord!_ "        

I would have given all the gold in Gringotts to evaporate on the spot. Trying valiantly to laugh along with everyone else, I got up, my feet numb from the weight of the dwarf, as Percy did his best to disperse the crowd, some of whom were crying with mirth.        

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," he said, shooing some of the younger students away. "And you, Malfoy—"        

I, glancing over, saw Malfoy stoop and snatch up something. Leering, he showed it to Crabbe and Goyle, and I realized that he’d got Riddle’s diary.        

"Give that back," I said quietly.        

"Wonder what Potter’s written in this?" said Malfoy, who obviously hadn’t noticed the year on the cover and thought he had my own diary. A hush fell over the onlookers. Ginny was staring from the diary to me, looking terrified which got me confused as I saw her nudge Delilah. Delilah bent down a bit as Ginny whispered quickly into her ear. I watched curiously as Delilah's facial expression changed several times.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when Percy spoke up.

"Hand it over, Malfoy," he said sternly.        

"When I’ve had a look," said Malfoy, waving the diary tauntingly at me.

Percy said, "As a school prefect —" but I had lost my temper. I pulled out my wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" and just as Snape had disarmed Lockhart, so Malfoy found the diary shooting out of his hand into the air. Ron, grinning broadly, caught it.        

"Harry!" said Percy loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I’ll have to report this, you know!"      

But I didn’t care, I was one-up on Malfoy, and that was worth five points from Gryffindor any day. Malfoy was looking furious, and as a blond first year, who was blushing madly for some reason, passed him to enter her classroom, he yelled spitefully after her, "I don’t think Potter liked your valentine much!"

My eyes widened in shock and I started feeling bad as the girl covered her face with her hands and ran into class. Snarling, Delilah pulled out her wand, too, but I quickly grabbed her by the waist and pulled her away.

**Delilah's P.O.V.**

It wasn’t until we had reached Professor Flitwick’s class that I noticed something rather odd about the diary Harry now had. Ginny didn't explain exactly what the problem with it was back in the corridor, but I started having my own suspicions as I watched Harry. All his other books were drenched in scarlet ink. The diary, however, was as clean as it had been before the ink bottle had smashed all over it. He tried to point this out to Ron and I, but Ron was having trouble with his wand again; large purple bubbles were blossoming out of the end, and he wasn’t much interested in anything else while I kept was distance, thinking about this whole puzzle.      

Harry went to bed before anyone else in his dormitory that night. I think it was partly because he didn’t think he could stand Fred and George singing, "His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad" one more time, and partly because he wanted to examine Riddle’s diary again, and knew that Ron and I thought he was wasting his time. It wasn't really a waste of time, it's good to investigate, but... something about that diary just screams 'danger' at me.

I couldn't sleep well, so I thought to myself... why not go for a little run? I quickly put on a pair of worn out jeans, a black t-shirt and the jumper Mrs. Weasley made for me for Christmas, and ran out of my room, but not before leaving my window open, just in case Atlas wanted to fly and maybe take Thunder.

As soon as I left the castle, I started regretting coming out here. I felt like I was being watched as I approached the Forbidden Forest and started shaking again. I quickly broke into a run into the forbidden forest, not looking back.    

I fell onto the forest ground. I started panting and then gasped in pain as I could hear the breaking of my bones, each one by one, blood rushing everywhere. I knew what was happening right now, I was used to it.

My fourth soul animal.

It took hours, and the moon started to lower before the pain eased up. I looked down at myself and saw what I hadn't yet had expected to see. What frustrated yet somehow relieved me completely. I saw paws, giant black ones, though I knew they didn't belong to any canine. I looked around me and internally thanked the goddess of the moon. The Black Lake was right before my eyes. I rolled myself to the edge— stupid, I know— and looked at my reflection in the water.

I was a panther. A black panther. I closed my eyes and concentrated as I shifted into my wolf— I prefer that form over any of the others. I opened my eyes only to stare back at the reflection of my wolf in shock. My fur was no longer black, it was silver.

I stood up and wobbled a bit before sprinting off, deeper into the forest. As I hit the trees, my clothes mending into my fur till it disappeared completely, I started to empty my mind.  

I felt so free...    

So much... better. Now I could hear the faint rustle of the matted leaves beneath my paws, the whisper of an owl’s wings above me, the water— far, far in the west— moaning against the beach near the Black lake. Hear this, and nothing more. Feel nothing but speed, nothing but the pull of muscle, sinew, and bone, working together in harmony as the miles disappeared behind me.  

If the silence lasted, I would never go back. I wouldn’t be the first one to choose this form over the other. Maybe, if I ran far enough away, I would never have anything in sight I might lose... I would never have to worry...  

I pushed my legs faster, wanting nothing more than for Delilah Keren Aleah  _Dawn_  Hawkins to disappear behind me.  

I was flying... until I was thrown into the air... into a tree, breaking... my right arm. Okay, what is up with that? Why is it always my right arm? Ignoring the pain, I jumped onto my feet and growled, backing up against the tree. Who was trying to kill me now?

I started growling more loudly and menacingly as  _they_  came into view.

" _Join us, Delilah_ ," said their alpha, through a mind link he just created.

I snarled. " _And why the hell would I be stupid enough to join a pack of mutts?_ "

" _Hey! You took your wolfy form too, so don't judge us werewolves!_ " snarled one of his pack members.

I decided to brag a little and shifted into my four soul animals to prove my point. " _You should not come to the last soul shifter for power. You should know better than that, especially after such an attack— after what you did, I would never even consider joining you._ "  

" _You have no idea who you're dealing with_ ," he growled, crouching down on his front legs.

" _ **You**  have no idea who you are dealing with_," I replied, copying his stance while shifting back to my wolf that was somehow black again.

" _Join_ —"

" _Are you deaf even in your mind? I will never join you, not after what you did to my family!_ " I snarled.

Yes, you guessed right. I was confronting the bastard who set his army of mini bastards out to destroy my pack eleven years ago. How did he find me? I have no idea. How did he even get to the Forbidden Forest— to Hogwarts? I hate not knowing stuff.

" _It's either you join or die. It's your choice now, Lilly_ ," he taunted. Okay, I was already planning in killing him the moment he made his appearance, but he's really pushing it to the limit by calling me Lilly. No one can call me that... except for my dad and now Harry. " _There'll be only one murder here tonight if you chose wrong._ " 

" _You're right_ ," I said, staring at the midnight black werewolf. His pack and him stared at me wide eyed as I crouched down even lower, ready to strike. " _It'll be yours_."  

And with that, we both striked. I met the werewolf's attack head-on. Our angry snarls echoed like thunder off the trees.

We were snapping and tearing at each other, our sharp teeth flashing toward each other's throats. For a while, I had the upper hand— I was bigger than all of these werewolves alone, especially their alpha, and I was stronger, too. I rammed my shoulder against the alpha again and again, knocking him back toward the trees, but I was soon losing strength as the rest of the pack decided to join.

Everything happened so fast, the next thing I knew, the pack was gone and I was lying flat on my back near a big tree, pain shooting through every speck of my body. As soon as I sat up, my eyes widened when I saw Atlas and Thunder lying in an odd position a few meters away.

"NO!" I shouted. Ignoring the pain, I shot up and toward them. I reached them and screamed in frustration and pain.

Why does this keep happening to me? Damn it! I was supposed to be a protector.

But I failed them instead. My last two companions, just like I failed my family.

"No, no! Don't you dare leave me, Atlas, Thunder, please, you're stronger than that. Wake up, you are not dead. You are not gone!"

Atlas pecked my hand softly and looked at me with teary eyes while Thunder whimpered in pain, snuggling into my side. 

I started panicking, I had no idea if it was possible to give an animal CPR, but a flash of lightning stopped me, hitting my companions straight into their heart. I watched in shock as Atlas burst into flame before turning into cinders, and not in rebirthing way, while Thunder turned into dust before being blown away by the wind.

"No! This can't— why is this—" I cut myself off, staring at the spot where they lay no more. I didn't know what to say, what to do— I was broken.

My loyal and only companions gave up their lives for me... and now they're gone. They might've turned into forests spirits now, but still— 

They're as good as dead, now.

I failed them... I'm a failure.

I lied down on that spot curled up into a ball, singing myself, to sleep, a song... what was the name... I forgot, but I remember someone singing it to me when I was a baby though I can't remember who used to sing it. I only remember hearing it once that it shocked me that I still remembered the words, but I didn't care. I just really needed to let it go.

_Just close your eyes, t_ _he sun is going down_

_You'll be alright, n_ _o one can hurt you now_

_Come morning light_

_You and I'll be safe and sound..._

Sometime later, a bright light woke me up. I don't think I'd really fallen asleep; I was just lost in an unthinking stupor, holding with all my strength to the numbness that kept me from realizing what I didn't want to know.

How will I react the next time I lose someone dear to me?

I really don't want to know.

For a moment, I thought of nothing until my brain started functioning again and I thought about my whole day. Dang... I thought I hated Bludgers, Valentine's day is worse!


	16. Cornelius Fudge

I wanted to kill him.

I wanted to kill that pathetic excuse for an alpha, Stephen— the one and only bastard who destroyed my chance at growing up like a normal child even if my environment and I weren't really... normal to begin with.

All I could think about was me killing him as I made my way back to the Gryffindor tower that night around eleven thirty and went straight to my dorm, no caring to check if someone was in the Common Room.

I was too exhausted and too broken to care about anything anymore. I didn't sleep, though. After everything that happened today, I just couldn't. I simply sat on my window seat and stared out at the night sky. I kept my ears open, hoping this was nothing but a dream— that my whole hell of a life was nothing but a dream, but it wasn't. At last, exhausted, I fell asleep right there.

When I got to the Great Hall the next morning, the first thing that caught my attention was the conversation the trio was having.

"Riddle might have got the wrong person," said Hermione. Riddle? Why are they talking about him? "Maybe it was some other monster that was attacking people..."        

"How many monsters d’you think this place can hold?" Ron asked dully.        

"We always knew Hagrid had been expelled," said Harry miserably. "And the attacks must’ve stopped after Hagrid was kicked out. Otherwise, Riddle wouldn’t have got his award."      

Something clicked at the back of my head... like if I had already  _seen_  what they were talking about right now.      

"Riddle does sound like Percy— who asked him to squeal on Hagrid, anyway?" Ron asked.      

"But the monster had killed someone, Ron," said Hermione.        

"And Riddle was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they closed Hogwarts," said Harry. "I don’t blame him for wanting to stay here..." Pft, I would've preferred going back to the orphanage I was in with Miss Kathie and the others. I mean, I don't hate Hogwarts, but bad things often seem to happen here.

"You met Hagrid down Knockturn Alley, didn’t you, Harry?" Ron asked.      

"He was buying a Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent," said Harry quickly.  

I got my white board out to write something but my eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when I saw what I had written there the last time I used it.

Tom Marvolo Riddle—

_I am Lord Voldemort_.

Oh, shit.

I quickly spoke up tough my voice came out bit edgy, thank the goddess of the moon they didn't notice. "Do you not think it is a bit odd?"

"What?" Harry asked me.

"Riddle was a Slytherin. Even being a prefect and awarded for such nonsense he would not have shown anyone such a memory, especially not a Gryffindor no matter how important that memory is."

"Deli's right. Now that I think of it, dad always said the Gryffindor and Slytherin feud goes way back— since the first few years of Hogwarts," Ron said.

"Yes. He probably just framed Hagrid who was surely in Gryffindor, right?" said Hermione.

I nodded. "And you know how much Hagrid love creatures, the one Riddle showed was probably not the one from the Chamber," I mentally face-palmed myself realizing that I had given away the fact that I know a lot more than they thought I do. "And let us not forget that at the time, they were all so desperate to find the culprit. Professor Dippet would have believed it was anyone at that point." Again, I mentally face-palmed myself— Harry didn't mention anything about him.

Please don't notice, please don't notice, please don't—

"I never mentioned anything about Professor Dippet, Delilah," Harry said slowly, looking at me with his brows knitted together. "What do you know?"

I tensed up and took a deep breath, feeling myself go emotionless. What is happening to m— oh, right... never mind.

"Ask me no questions and I will answer no lies," I simply replied in monotone.

The four of us fell silent. After a long pause, Hermione voiced the knottiest question of all in a hesitant voice.    

"Do you think we should go and ask Hagrid about it all?"

"That’d be a cheerful visit," said Ron. "'Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?'"

In the end, to my relief, they decided that they would not say anything to Hagrid unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by with no whisper from the disembodied voice, they became hopeful that they would never need to talk to him about why he had been expelled. It was now nearly four months since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick had been Petrified, and nearly everybody seemed to think that the attacker, whoever it was, had retired for good. Peeves had finally got bored of his "Oh, Potter, you rotter" song, Ernie Macmillan asked Harry quite politely to pass a bucket of leaping toadstools in Herbology one day, and on the first day of March, several of the Mandrakes threw a loud and raucous party in greenhouse three. This made Professor Sprout very happy.        

"The moment they start trying to move into each other’s pots, we’ll know they’re fully mature," she told me. "Then we’ll be able to revive those poor people in the hospital wing."  

All of us, second years, were given something new to think about during the following days. The time had come to choose our subjects for the third year, a matter that Hermione, at least, took very seriously.        

"... it could affect our whole future," she told Harry, Ron and I as we pored over lists of new subjects, marking them with checks.        

"I just want to give up Potions," said Harry.      

"We can’t," said Ron gloomily. "We keep all our old subjects, or I’d’ve ditched Defense Against the Dark Arts."        

"But that’s very important!" said Hermione, shocked.        

"Not the way Lockhart teaches it," said Ron. "I haven’t learned anything from him except not to set pixies loose."      

Neville had been sent letters from all the witches and wizards in his family, all giving him different advice on what to choose. Confused and worried, he sat reading the subject lists with his tongue poking out, asking people whether they thought Arithmancy sounded more difficult than the study of Ancient Runes. Dean Thomas, who, like Harry, had grown up with Muggles, ended up closing his eyes and jabbing his wand at the list, then picking the subjects it landed on. Harry did the same only because the only thing he felt he was really good at was Quidditch. In the end, he chose the same new subjects as Ron, feeling that if he was lousy at them, at least he’d have someone friendly to help him. Hermione and I, on the other hand, took nobody’s advice but signed up for everything. Stupid for someone who's in Quidditch and a Curatoria— I know, but I need to keep my mind busy, and something tells me next year I'll need all the distraction I can get.  

Gryffindor’s next Quidditch match would be against Hufflepuff. Wood was insisting on team practices every night after dinner, so that I barely had time for anything but Quidditch and homework. However, the training sessions were getting better, or at least drier, and the evening before Saturday’s match I went up to my dormitory to drop off my broomstick feeling Gryffindor’s chances for the Quidditch cup had never been better.        

But my cheerful mood didn’t last long. At the top of the stairs to the boys' dormitory, Neville was looking quite frantic. I frowned in confusion and looked at Harry who was looking at me with the same confusion clouding his features.      

"Harry— I don’t know who did it— I just found—"        

With that, I shrugged and made my way toward my dorm. I reluctantly pushed open my door and stepped into the dark room. I hadn't slept here since the night I lost my last two companions. Letting out a loud heavy sigh, I rested my broom against the wall and went to sit on the window seat. I nearly fell off when I heard Dean swear loudly.

"What happened, Harry?"      

"No idea," Harry replied.        

"Someone’s been looking for something," Ron said. "Is there anything missing?"  

"Riddle’s diary’s gone," Harry replied, lowering his voice.        

"What?"      

I frowned. The only ones who knew about the diary were Harry, Ron, Hermione, me and... Ginny.

Oh, shit.

I got off the window seat and left my room. After locking the door, I hurried down to the Gryffindor common room, which was half-empty, and joined Hermione, who was sitting alone, reading a book called  _Ancient Runes Made Easy_ , and Harry and Ron whom had just gotten there.  

I pretended to be in shock while Hermione looked aghast at the news.        

"But— only a Gryffindor could have stolen— nobody else knows our password—"        

"Exactly," said Harry.    

We woke the next day to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze.        

"Perfect Quidditch conditions!" said Wood enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team’s plates with scrambled eggs. "Harry, Deli, buck up there, you both need a decent breakfast."

Harry had been staring down the packed Gryffindor table, probably wondering if the new owner of Riddle’s diary was right in front of his eyes. Hermione had been urging him to report the robbery, but Harry didn’t like the idea. He’d have to tell a teacher all about the diary, and how many people knew why Hagrid had been expelled fifty years ago? I'm guessing he didn’t want to be the one who brought it all up again.        

_"... rip... tear... kill..."_

I rolled my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. Really? Come on, public place here!

_"... soo hungry... for so long..."_

If you're hungry then you'll have to wait for the food to appear.

_"... kill... time to kill..."_

"Ugh! Shut the hell up and stop repeating the same God damned phrases!" I hissed in annoyance.

"What?"

My eyes widened. Dang it, I said that out loud. "Um... I said 'Hurry the hell up and stop taking so long because I can not wait to start... the God damned match!' Yeah... that is what I said," I replied, looking around awkwardly.

As I left the Great Hall with Harry, Ron and Hermione to go and collect our Quidditch things, another very serious worry was added to mu growing list. I had just set foot on the marble staircase when I heard it yet again.        

_"Kill this time... let me rip... tear..."_       

I mentally groaned then slightly jumped along with Ron and Hermione in alarm when Harry suddenly shouted aloud,

"The voice!" Harry looked over his shoulder. "I just heard it again— didn’t you?"        

I bit my lower lip and hesitantly nodded as Ron shook his head, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead.        

"Harry— I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!"         

And she sprinted away, up the stairs.        

"What does she understand?" said Harry distractedly, still looking around, probably still trying to tell where the voice had come from.         

"Loads more than I do," said Ron, shaking his head.         

"But why’s she got to go to the library?"        

"Because that’s what Hermione does," said Ron, shrugging. "When in doubt, go to the library."

I stood there too, like Harry, irresolute, trying to catch the voice again, but people were now emerging from the Great Hall behind us, talking loudly, exiting through the front doors on their way to the Quidditch pitch. That's when I started to think. Harry and I are the only Parselmouths in Hogwarts and the only ones who can hear the voice... which brings me down to one question: here is the voice coming from? The only reasonable explanations there could be as for why we can only hear it and not see its source would be that the owner of the voice is hiding in the pipes or— oh.  _The pipes_. Maybe that's what Hermione figured out as well...

"You both’d better get moving," said Ron, breaking me out of my thoughts. "It’s nearly eleven— the match—"      

Harry and I raced up to Gryffindor Tower, collected our Nimbus Two Thousands, and joined the large crowd swarming across the grounds, but my mind was still in the castle along with the bodiless voice, and as I pulled on my scarlet robes in the locker room, my only comfort was that everyone was now outside to watch the game.  

I couldn't help but think of such an evident coincidence— Harry and I are the only Parselmouths in Hogwarts and the only ones who could hear the bodyless voice... Maybe that raspy voice belongs to a serpent... ad the only way we could be hearing it without would be through the pipes...

I shook my head and followed Harry; I would think about the variety of possibilities later.

The teams walked onto the field to tumultuous applause. Oliver Wood took off for a warm-up flight around the goal posts; Madam Hooch released the balls. The Hufflepuffs, who played in canary yellow, were standing in a huddle, having a last-minute discussion of tactics.         

I was just mounting my broom when Professor McGonagall came half marching, half running across the pitch, carrying an enormous purple megaphone.        

My heart dropped like a stone. 

"This match has been cancelled," Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Oliver Wood, looking devastated, landed and ran toward Professor McGonagall without getting off his broomstick.        

"But, Professor!" he shouted. "We’ve got to play— the cup— Gryffindor—"         

Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through her megaphone:        

"All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

Then she lowered the megaphone and beckoned me over to her.        

"Hawkins, I think you’d better come with me..."         

Wondering what was going on this time, I saw Harry land and ran up to me as Ron detached himself from the complaining crowd; he came running up to us as we set off toward the castle. To my surprise, Professor McGonagall didn’t object either of their company.         

"Yes, perhaps you two’d better come, too..."         

Some of the students swarming around us were grumbling about the match being canceled; others looked worried. From the corner of my eye, I could see the Hufflepuff boy I dueled at the dueling club looking at me with worried eyes. I felt bad for already forgetting what his name was, but all the same, I turned to look at him completely and sent him a small reassuring smile which he returned before Harry, Ron and I followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and up the marble staircase.

But we weren’t taken to anybody’s office this time.         

"This will be a bit of a shock," said Professor McGonagall in a surprisingly gentle voice as we approached the infirmary. "There has been another attack... another double attack."        

My insides did a horrible somersault. Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and Harry, Ron and I entered... Madam Pomfrey was bending over a fifth-year girl with long, curly hair. 

I recognized her as the Ravenclaw prefect Percy had so kindly introduced to me a week preceding Valentine's day when Ginny and I accidently walked in on them... kissing. Anyway... on the bed next to her was—  

"No!" I whispered, horrified.       

"Hermione!" Ron groaned.        

Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy.         

"They were found near the library," said Professor McGonagall. "I don’t suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them..."       

She was holding up a small, circular mirror.         

Harry and Ron shook their heads, both staring at Hermione as my face went completely blank. 

Serpents... parselmouth... creepy bodyless voice... hiding in the pipes... there's always something creating a reflection near the victim, first water leaking from a bathroom and now a mirror...

Shit. The monster is a damn basilisk. But how? How could a basilisk be able to do this?       

"I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower," said Professor McGonagall heavily. "I need to address the students in any case."    

"All students will return to their House common rooms by six o’clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."        

The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor McGonagall in silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward."      

She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole, and the Gryffindors began talking immediately.        

"That’s two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff," said the Weasley twins’ friend, Lee Jordan, counting on his fingers. "Haven’t any of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn’t it obvious all this stuff’s coming from Slytherin? The Heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin— why don’t they just chuck all the Slytherins out?" he roared, to nods and scattered applause.        

Percy was sitting in a chair behind Lee, but for once he didn’t seem keen to make his views heard. He was looking pale and stunned.        

"Percy’s in shock," George told Harry and I quietly. "That Ravenclaw girl— Penelope Clearwater— she’s a prefect. I don’t think he thought the monster would dare attack a prefect."      

But I was only half-listening. I couldn't seem to be able to get rid of the picture of Hermione, lying on the hospital bed as though carved out of stone.        

"What’re we going to do?" said Ron quietly to Harry and I. "D’you think they suspect Hagrid?"      

"We’ve got to go and talk to him," said Harry, making up his mind. "I can’t believe it’s him this time, but if he set the monster loose last time he’ll know how to get inside the Chamber of Secrets, and that’s a start."    

"But McGonagall said we’ve got to stay in our tower unless we’re in class—"      

"Harry," I started quietly, "I think it is time to get your father's old cloak out again."     

Harry had inherited just one thing from his father: a long and silvery Invisibility Cloak. It was our only chance of sneaking out of the school to visit Hagrid without anyone knowing about it. I could usually make myself invisible— one of the perks of bent the most powerful witch— but for some reason I felt completely drained. The three of us went to bed at the usual time. I sat by my door, and waited patiently. I was somewhat relieved I had thought of removing the spell prohibiting boys into girls' dormitory from my staircase. I was silent and waited just like my friends who were waiting until Neville, Dean, and Seamus had stopped discussing the Chamber of Secrets and finally fallen asleep, to finally get up, dressed again. Sighing, I got up and went to sit on my bed, no longer paying attention to my surroundings. Closing my eyes, I started to sing.

_Just close your eyes, the sun is going down_

_You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now_

_Come morning light_

_You and I'll be safe and sound..._

"That was amazing," said a soft voice in my ear, making me slightly shiver and my heart skip a beat. I turned around only to find myself a lost getting lost in a pair of beautiful bright green eyes. His face was only inches from mine, causing my heartbeat to accelerate for some reason. I smiled at him. 

"Thank you," I whispered, visibly making him shiver for some reason. I sighed and stood up, looking from Harry to Ron.

"Ready?" Ron asked. I nodded and the three of us got under the cloak before setting off. 

The journey through the dark and deserted castle corridors wasn’t enjoyable. I, who had wandered the castle at night several times before, had never seen it so crowded after sunset. Teachers, prefects, and ghosts were marching the corridors in pairs, staring around for any unusual activity. The Invisibility Cloak didn’t stop us making any noise, and there was a particularly tense moment when Ron stubbed his toe only yards from the spot where Snape stood standing guard. Thankfully, Snape sneezed at almost exactly the moment Ron swore. It was with relief that we reached the oak front doors and eased them open.         

It was a clear, starry night. We hurried toward the lit windows of Hagrid’s house and pulled off the cloak only when we were right outside his front door.        

Seconds after we had knocked, Hagrid flung it open. We found ourselves face-to-face with him aiming a crossbow at us. Fang the boarhound barked loudly behind him. 

"Oh," he said, lowering the weapon and staring at us. "What’re you three doin’ here?"         

"What’s that for?" Harry asked, pointing at the crossbow as we stepped inside.         

"Nothin’— nothin’—" Hagrid muttered. "I’ve bin expectin— doesn’ matter— Sit down— I’ll make tea—" 

He hardly seemed to know what he was doing. He nearly extinguished the fire, spilling water from the kettle on it, and then smashed the teapot with a nervous jerk of his massive hand.        

"Are you okay, Hagrid?" Harry asked, grabbing a hold of my hand. "Did you hear about Hermione?" 

"Oh, I heard, all righ’," said Hagrid, a slight break in his voice. 

He kept glancing nervously at the windows. He poured us three large mugs of boiling water (he had forgotten to add tea bags) and was just putting a slab of fruitcake on a plate when there was a loud knock on the door.         

Hagrid dropped the fruitcake. Harry and Ron exchanged panicstricken looks as I groaned, then threw the Invisibility Cloak back over ourselves and retreated into a corner. Hagrid checked that we were hidden, seized his crossbow, and flung open his door once more.         

"Good evening, Hagrid." 

It was Dumbledore. He entered, looking deadly serious, and was followed by a second, very odd- looking man.        

The stranger had rumpled gray hair and an anxious expression, and was wearing a strange mixture of clothes: a pinstriped suit, a scarlet tie, a long black cloak, and pointed purple boots. Under his arm he carried a lime-green bowler.        

"That’s Dad’s boss!" Ron breathed. "Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic!"

I elbowed Ron hard to make him shut up at the same time as Harry gave him a stern look. 

Hagrid had gone pale and sweaty. He dropped into one of his chairs and looked from Dumbledore to Cornelius Fudge.        

"Bad business, Hagrid," said Fudge in rather clipped tones. "Very bad business. Had to come. Four attacks on Muggle-borns. Things’ve gone far enough. Ministry’s got to act." 

"I never," said Hagrid, looking imploringly at Dumbledore. "You know I never, Professor Dumbledore, sir—"        

"I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence," said Dumbledore, frowning at Fudge.         

"Look, Albus," said Fudge, uncomfortably. "Hagrid’s record’s against him. Ministry’s got to do something— the school governors have been in touch—"         

"Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help in the slightest," said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were full of a fire I had never seen before. 

"Look at it from my point of view," said Fudge, fidgeting with his bowler. "I’m under a lot of pressure." I silently scoffed. "Got to be seen to be doing something. If it turns out it wasn’t Hagrid, he’ll be back and no more said. But I’ve got to take him. Got to. Wouldn’t be doing my duty—" 

"Take me?" said Hagrid, who was trembling. "Take me where?" 

"For a short stretch only," said Fudge, not meeting Hagrid’s eyes. "Not a punishment, Hagrid, more a precaution. If someone else is caught, you’ll be let out with a full apology—"

"Not Azkaban?" croaked Hagrid. I felt fury rush through my veins and if Harry and Ron hadn't held me back, I would've lashed out into the air from under the cloak and phased then and there. I knew grandpa D knew I was here, but I seriously didn't care; they had no right to take Hagrid even if his stupid records weren't the best. 

Before Fudge could answer, there was another loud rap on the door.         

Dumbledore answered it. It was Harry’s turn for an elbow in the ribs; he’d let out an audible gasp.        

Mr. Lucius Malfoy strode into Hagrid’s hut, swathed in a long black traveling cloak, smiling a cold and satisfied smile. Fang started to growl.         

"Already here, Fudge," he said approvingly. "Good, good..."         

"What’re you doin’ here?" said Hagrid furiously. "Get outta my house!"         

"My dear man, please believe me, I have no pleasure at all in being inside your— er— d’you call this a house?" said Lucius Malfoy, sneering as he looked around the small cabin. "I simply called at the school and was told that the headmaster was here."        

"And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?" said Dumbledore. He spoke politely, but the fire was still blazing in his blue eyes.         

"Dreadful thing, Dumbledore," said Malfoy lazily, taking out a long roll of parchment, "but the governors feel it’s time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension— you’ll find all twelve signatures on it. I’m afraid we feel you’re losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? Two more this afternoon, wasn’t it? At this rate, there’ll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts, and we all know what an awful loss that would be to the school." 

"Oh, now, see here, Lucius," said Fudge, looking alarmed, "Dumbledore suspended— no, no— last thing we want just now." At least I didn't get elbowed in the ribs; a hand clasped itself over my mouth while an arm snaked around my waist. I knew it was Harry seeing as Ron was the one holding the cloak on my right while his breathing was becoming heavier. I removed Harry's hand from my mouth but didn't bother with the arm around me as I gently touched Ron's forearm. 

" _Are you alright?_ " I asked into his mind, creating a big enough mind link for the three of us. 

He looked over at me and nodded quickly. I raise an eyebrow at him and he silently sighed. " _I've been better_ ," he replied. I nodded before turning to look at Harry with the same question in my eyes. He smiled at me and nodded sadly before turning his attention back to the show before us.

"The appointment— or suspension— of the headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy smoothly. "And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks—"         

"See here, Malfoy, if Dumbledore can’t stop them," said Fudge, whose upper lip was sweating now, "I mean to say, who can?" 

"That remains to be seen," said Mr. Malfoy with a nasty smile. "But as all twelve of us have voted—"         

Hagrid leapt to his feet, his shaggy black head grazing the ceiling.         

"An' how many did yeh have ter threaten an' blackmail before they agreed, Malfoy, eh?" he roared.   

"Dear, dear, you know, that temper of yours will lead you into trouble one of these days, Hagrid," said Mr. Malfoy. "I would advise you not to shout at the Azkaban guards like that. They won’t like it at all." 

"Yeh can’ take Dumbledore!" yelled Hagrid, making Fang the boarhound cower and whimper in his basket. "Take him away, an’ the Muggle-borns won’ stand a chance! There’ll be killin’ next!"        

"Calm yourself, Hagrid," said Dumbledore sharply. He looked at Lucius Malfoy.        

"If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside—"         

"But—" stuttered Fudge.        

"No!" growled Hagrid.        

Dumbledore had not taken his bright blue eyes off Lucius Malfoy’s cold gray ones.        

"However," said Dumbledore, speaking very slowly and clearly so that none of them could miss a word, "you will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me... Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

For a second, I was almost sure Dumbledore’s eyes flickered toward the corner where Harry, Ron and I were hidden. I knew he knew we were here, but still, why did he glance toward us? Was he trying to warn us about something?

"Admirable sentiments," said Malfoy, bowing. "We shall all miss your— er— highly individual way of running things, Albus, and only hope your successor will manage to prevent any— ah— killings."        

He strode to the cabin door, opened it, and bowed Dumbledore out. Fudge, fiddling with his bowler, waited for Hagrid to go ahead of him, but Hagrid stood his ground, took a deep breath, and said carefully, "If anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they’d have ter do would be ter follow the spiders. That’d lead ‘em right. That’s all I’m sayin'."

Fudge stared at him in amazement.        

"All right, I’m comin’," said Hagrid, pulling on his moleskin overcoat. But as he was about to follow Fudge through the door, he stopped again and said loudly, "An’ someone’ll need ter feed Fang while I’m away."        

The door banged shut and Ron pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.

"We’re in trouble now," Ron said hoarsely. "No Dumbledore. They might as well close the school tonight. There’ll be an attack a day with him gone."        

Fang started howling, scratching at the closed door.


	17. Giant spiders and a giant black wolf

Time was quickly creeping over the grounds around the castle; sky and lake alike turned periwinkle blue and flowers large as cabbages burst into bloom in the greenhouses. But with no Hagrid visible from the castle windows, striding the grounds with Fang at his heels, the scene didn’t look right to me; no better, in fact, than the inside of the castle, where things were so horribly wrong.

Harry and Ron had tried to visit Hermione, but visitors were now barred from the hospital wing.

"We’re taking no more chances," Madam Pomfrey told them severely through a crack in the infirmary door. "No, I’m sorry, there’s every chance the attacker might come back to finish these people off..."

I kept myself distant, now, more than ever. Something was going to happen to me, I just knew it, but I didn't want it to be such a huge impact on others.

With Dumbledore gone, fear had spread as never before, so that the sun warming the castle walls outside seemed to stop at the mullioned windows. There was barely a face to be seen in the school that didn’t look worried and tense, and any laughter that rang through the corridors sounded shrill and unnatural and was quickly stifled.

I constantly repeated Dumbledore’s final words to myself, " _I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me... Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it_." But what good were these words? Who exactly were we supposed to ask for help, when everyone was just as confused and scared as we were?

Hagrid’s hint about the spiders was far easier to understand. The trouble was, there didn’t seem to be a single spider left in the castle to follow. Harry looked everywhere he went, helped (rather reluctantly) by Ron and I. We were hampered, of course, by the fact that we weren’t allowed to wander off on our own but had to move around the castle in a pack with the other Gryffindors. Most of our fellow students seemed glad that we were all being shepherded from class to class by teachers, but Harry and I found it very irksome.

One person, however, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere of terror and suspicion. Draco Malfoy was strutting around the school as though he had just been appointed Head Boy. I didn’t realize what he was so pleased about until the Potions lesson about a few days after Dumbledore and Hagrid had left, when, sitting right behind Malfoy, Harry and I overheard him gloating to Crabbe and Goyle.

"I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore," he said, not troubling to keep his voice down. "I told you he thinks Dumbledore’s the worst headmaster the school’s ever had. Maybe we’ll get a decent headmaster now. Someone who won’t want the Chamber of Secrets closed. McGonagall won’t last long, she’s only filling in..."

Snape swept past Harry, making no comment about Hermione’s empty seat and cauldron.  

"Sir," said Malfoy loudly. "Sir, why don’t you apply for the headmaster’s job?" 

"Now, now, Malfoy," said Snape, though he couldn’t suppress a thin-lipped smile. "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I daresay he’ll be back with us soon enough."

"Yeah, right," said Malfoy, smirking. "I expect you’d have Father’s vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job— I’ll tell Father you’re the best teacher here, sir—"

Snape smirked as he swept off around the dungeon, fortunately not spotting Seamus, who was pretending to vomit into his cauldron.         

"I’m quite surprised the Mudbloods haven’t all packed their bags by now," Malfoy went on. "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn’t Granger —"        

The bell rang at that moment, which was lucky; at Malfoy’s last words, Ron had leapt off his stool, and in the scramble to collect bags and books, his attempts to reach Malfoy went unnoticed.         

"Let me at him," Ron growled as Harry and Dean hung onto his arms and I sighed, shaking my head. "I don’t care, I don’t need my wand, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands—"        

"Hurry up, I’ve got to take you all to Herbology," barked Snape over the class’s heads, and off we marched, with Harry, Ron, Dean and I bringing up the rear, Ron still trying to get loose. It was only safe to let go of him when Snape had seen us all out of the castle and we were making our way across the vegetable patch toward the greenhouses.

The Herbology class was very subdued; there were now two missing from our number, Justin and Hermione.        

Professor Sprout set us all to work pruning the Abyssinian Shrivelfigs. As I went to tip an armful of withered stalks onto the compost heap, I noticed Harry had found himself face-to-face with Ernie Macmillan. 

Ernie took a deep breath and said, very formally, "I just want to say, Harry, that I’m sorry I ever suspected you. I know you’d never attack Hermione Granger, and I apologize for all the stuff I said. We’re all in the same boat now, and, well—"

He held out a pudgy hand, and Harry shook it.        

Ernie and his friend Hannah came to work at the same Shrivelfig as Harry, Ron and I. 

"That Draco Malfoy character," said Ernie, breaking off dead twigs, "he seems very pleased about all this, doesn’t he? D’you know, I think he might be Slytherin’s heir." 

"That’s clever of you," said Ron, who didn’t seem to have forgiven Ernie as readily as Harry.         

"Do you think it’s Malfoy, Harry?" Ernie asked.   

"No," said Harry, so firmly that Ernie and Hannah stared.   

"Do you, Delilah?" 

I looked up only to find four pairs of eyes staring at me, making me mentally groan. "I do not think so... but we never know." 

Silence followed my answer and a second later, I spotted something. 

Several large spiders were scuttling over the ground on the other side of the glass, moving in an unnaturally straight line as though taking the shortest route to a prearranged meeting. I looked over a Harry and saw looking there to. Harry then looked up at me before hitting Ron over the hand with his pruning shears.

" _Ouch_! What’re you—" 

Harry pointed out the spiders, following their progress with his eyes screwed up against the sun. 

"Oh, yeah," said Ron, trying, and failing, to look pleased. "But we can’t follow them now —" 

Ernie and Hannah were listening curiously. 

I narrowed my eyes as I focused on the spiders. If they pursued their fixed course, there could be no doubt about where they would end up.

"Looks like they’re heading for the Forbidden Forest..." Harry trailed off. 

And Ron looked even unhappier about that. I felt myself tense up before my body suddenly started shaking. 

Oh, no... not now! 

At the end of the lesson Professor Sprout escorted the class to their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Harry and Ron lagged behind the others so they could talk out of earshot, but I didn't waste any time. I flicked my finger making my stuff appear in my room before running towards the forest. 

This was going to be a painful night. 

**Harry's P.O.V.**  

"We’ll have to use the Invisibility Cloak again," I said. "We can take Fang with us. He’s used to going into the forest with Hagrid, he might be some help."

"Right," said Ron, who was twirling his wand nervously in his fingers. "Er— aren’t there— aren’t there supposed to be werewolves in the forest?" he added as we took our usual places at the back of Lockhart’s classroom.         

Preferring not to answer that question, I said, "There are good things in there, too. The centaurs are all right, and the unicorns..." 

Ron had never been into the Forbidden Forest before. I had entered it only once and had hoped never to do so again.         

Lockhart bounded into the room and we all stared at him. Every other teacher in the place was looking grimmer than usual, but Lockhart appeared nothing short of buoyant. 

"Come now," he cried, beaming around him. "Why all these long faces?"         

People swapped exasperated looks, but nobody answered.   

"Don’t you people realize," said Lockhart, speaking slowly, as though we were all a bit dim, "the danger has passed! The culprit has been taken away —" 

"Says who?" said Dean loudly.         

"My dear young man, the Minister of Magic wouldn’t have taken Hagrid if he hadn’t been one hundred percent sure that he was guilty," said Lockhart, in the tone of someone explaining that one and one made two.

"Oh, yes he would," said Ron, even more loudly than Dean.         

"I flatter myself I know a touch more about Hagrid’s arrest than you do, Mr. Weasley," said Lockhart in a self-satisfied tone.         

Ron started to say that he didn’t think so, somehow, but stopped in midsentence when I kicked him hard under the desk.        

"We weren’t there, remember?" Harry muttered.         

But Lockhart’s disgusting cheeriness, his hints that he had always thought Hagrid was no good, his confidence that the whole business was now at an end, irritated me so much that I yearned to throw  _Gadding with Ghouls_ right in Lockhart’s stupid face. Instead I contented myself with scrawling a note to Ron:  _Let’s do it tonight_.         

Ron read the message, swallowed hard, and looked sideways at the empty seat usually filled by Hermione. The sight seemed to stiffen his resolve, and he nodded, but then we both simultaneously froze as e just realized something. 

Delilah wasn't here. 

The Gryffindor common room was always very crowded these days, because from six o’clock onward the Gryffindors had nowhere else to go. We all also had plenty to talk about, with the result that the common room often didn’t empty until past midnight.

I went to get the Invisibility Cloak out of my trunk right after dinner, and spent the evening sitting on it, waiting for the room to clear. Fred and George challenged me and Ron to a few games of Exploding Snap, and Ginny sat watching us, very subdued in Delilah's usual chair. Ron and I kept losing on purpose, trying to finish the games quickly, but even so, it was well past midnight when Fred, George, and Ginny finally went to bed.

Ron and I waited for the distant sounds of two dormitory doors closing before seizing the cloak, throwing it over ourselves, and climbing through the portrait hole. I honestly hope that, on our quest, wherever Delilah is, we'll find her.

It was another difficult journey through the castle, dodging all the teachers. At last we reached the entrance hall, slid back the lock on the oak front doors, squeezed between them, trying to stop any creaking, and stepped out into the moonlit grounds.         

"'Course," said Ron abruptly as we strode across the black grass, "we might get to the forest and find there’s nothing to follow. Those spiders might not’ve been going there at all. I know it looked like they were moving in that sort of general direction, but..." His voice trailed away hopefully.

We reached Hagrid’s house, sad and sorry-looking with its blank windows. When I pushed the door open, Fang went mad with joy at the sight of us. Worried he might wake everyone at the castle with his deep, booming barks, we hastily fed him treacle fudge from a tin on the mantelpiece, which glued his teeth together.

I left the Invisibility Cloak on Hagrid’s table. There would be no need for it in the pitch-dark forest. 

"C’mon, Fang, we’re going for a walk," I said, patting my leg, and Fang bounded happily out of the house behind us, dashed to the edge of the forest, and lifted his leg against a large sycamore tree.

I took out his wand, murmured, “ _Lumos_!” and a tiny light appeared at the end of it, just enough to let us watch the path for signs of spiders.

"Good thinking," said Ron. "I’d light mine, too, but you know— it’d probably blow up or something..."      

I tapped Ron on the shoulder, pointing at the grass. Two solitary spiders were hurrying away from the wandlight into the shade of the trees. As I moved to follow, Ron hesitated.  

"What are you doing?"

"You heard Hagrid. Follow the spiders," I replied.

"But they're heading into the Dark Forest."        

I sighed. "I know, and I've been in there before. It's really not that scary." Okay, that's a lie, but I really can't do this on my own. Besides, what if Delilah's in there?

Ron groaned. "Why spiders. Why couldn't it be 'Follow the butterflies'?"

I sighed again. "Ron..."

"Okay," Ron sighed as though resigned to the worst, "I’m ready. Let’s go."        

So, with Fang scampering around us, sniffing tree roots and leaves, we entered the forest. By the glow of my wand, we followed the steady trickle of spiders moving along the path. We walked behind them for about twenty minutes, not speaking, listening hard for noises other than breaking twigs and rustling leaves. Then, when the trees had become thicker than ever, so that the stars overhead were no longer visible, and my wand shone alone in the sea of dark, we saw our spider guides leaving the path.

I paused, trying to see where the spiders were going, but everything outside my little sphere of light was pitch-black. I had never been this deep into the forest before. I could vividly remember Hagrid advising me not to leave the forest path last time I'd been in here. But Hagrid was miles away now, probably sitting in a cell in Azkaban, and he had also said to follow the spiders.        

Something wet touched my hand and I jumped backward, crushing Ron’s foot, but it was only Fang’s nose.        

"What d’you reckon?" I said to Ron, whose eyes I could just make out, reflecting the light from my wand.  

"We’ve come this far," said Ron.

So we followed the darting shadows of the spiders into the trees. We couldn’t move very quickly now; there were tree roots and stumps in our way, barely visible in the near blackness. I could feel Fang’s hot breath on my hand. More than once, we had to stop, so that I could crouch down and find the spiders in the wandlight.

We walked for what seemed like at least half an hour, our robes snagging on low-slung branches and brambles. After a while, we noticed that the ground seemed to be sloping downward, though the trees were as thick as ever.

Then Fang suddenly let loose a great, echoing bark, making both Ron and I jump out of our skins.

"What?" said Ron loudly, looking around into the pitch-dark, and gripping my elbow very hard.

"There’s something moving over there," I breathed. "Listen... sounds like something big..."

We listened. Some distance to our right, the something big was snapping branches as it carved a path through the trees.

"Oh, no," said Ron. "Oh, no, oh, no, oh —"

"Shut up," I said frantically. "It’ll hear you."      

"Hear me?" said Ron in an unnaturally high voice. "It’s already heard Fang!"      

The darkness seemed to be pressing on our eyeballs as we stood, terrified, waiting. There was a strange rumbling noise and then silence.         

"What d’you think it’s doing?" I said.        

"Probably getting ready to pounce," said Ron.        

We waited, shivering, hardly daring to move.

"D’you think it’s gone?" I whispered.         

"Dunno —"      

Then, to our right, came a sudden blaze of light, so bright in the darkness that both of us flung up our hands to shield our eyes. Fang yelped and tried to run, but got lodged in a tangle of thorns and yelped even louder.  

"Harry!" Ron shouted, his voice breaking with relief. "Harry, it’s our car!"      

" _What_?"      

"Come on!"        

I blundered after Ron toward the light, stumbling and tripping, and a moment later we had emerged into a clearing.

Mr. Weasley’s car was standing, empty, in the middle of a circle of thick trees under a roof of dense branches, its headlights ablaze. As Ron walked, open-mouthed, toward it, it moved slowly toward him, exactly like a large, turquoise dog greeting its owner.

"It’s been here all the time!" said Ron delightedly, walking around the car. "Look at it. The forest’s turned it wild..."

The sides of the car were scratched and smeared with mud. Apparently it had taken to trundling around the forest on its own. Fang didn’t seem at all keen on it; he kept close to me, and could feel him quivering. My breathing slowing down again, I stuffed my wand back into my robes.

"And we thought it was going to attack us!" said Ron, leaning against the car and patting it. "I wondered where it had gone!"

I squinted around on the floodlit ground for signs of more spiders, but they had all scuttled away from the glare of the headlights.      

"We’ve lost the trail," he said. "C’mon, let’s go and find them."      

Ron didn’t speak. He didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on a point some ten feet above the forest floor, right behind me. His face was livid with terror.

I didn’t even have time to turn around. There was a loud clicking noise and suddenly I felt something long and hairy seize me around the middle and lift me off the ground, so that I was hanging facedown. Struggling, terrified, I heard more clicking, and saw Ron’s legs leave the ground, too, heard Fang whimpering and howling— next moment, he was being swept away into the dark trees. 

Head hanging, I saw that what had hold of me was marching on six immensely long, hairy legs, the front two clutching me tightly below a pair of shining black pincers. Behind me, I could hear another of the creatures, no doubt carrying Ron. We were moving into the very heart of the forest. I could hear Fang fighting to free himself from a third monster, whining loudly, but I couldn’t have yelled even if I had wanted to; it was as if my voice had stayed back with the car in the clearing.

I never knew how long I was in the creature’s clutches; I only knew that the darkness suddenly lifted enough for me to see that the leaf-strewn ground was now swarming with spiders. Craning my neck sideways, I realized that we had reached the ridge of a vast hollow, a hollow that had been cleared of trees, so that the stars shone brightly onto the worst scene I had ever laid eyes on.        

Spiders. Not tiny spiders like those surging over the leaves below. Spiders the size of carthorses, eight-eyed, eight-legged, black, hairy, gigantic. The massive specimen that was carrying Harry made its way down the steep slope toward a misty, domed web in the very center of the hollow, while its fellows closed in all around it, clicking their pincers excitedly at the sight of its load.      

I fell to the ground on all fours as the spider released me. Ron and Fang thudded down next to me. Fang wasn’t howling anymore, but cowering silently on the spot. Ron looked exactly like I felt. His mouth was stretched wide in a kind of silent scream and his eyes were popping.       

I suddenly realized that the spider that had dropped me was saying something. It had been hard to tell, because he clicked his pincers with every word he spoke.

"Aragog!" it called. "Aragog!"

And from the middle of the misty, domed web, a spider the size of a small elephant emerged, very slowly. There was gray in the black of his body and legs, and each of the eyes on his ugly, pincered head was milky white. He was blind.        

"What is it?" he said, clicking his pincers rapidly.        

"Men," clicked the spider who had caught me.         

"Is it Hagrid?" said Aragog, moving closer, his eight milky eyes wandering vaguely.

"Strangers," clicked the spider who had brought Ron.        

"Kill them," clicked Aragog fretfully. "I was sleeping..."         

"We’re friends of Hagrid’s," I shouted. My heart seemed to have left my chest to pound in my throat. 

Click, click, click went the pincers of the spiders all around the hollow.

Aragog paused.         

"Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before," he said slowly.         

"Hagrid’s in trouble," I said, breathing very fast. "That’s why we’ve come."         

"In trouble?" said the aged spider, and I thought I heard concern beneath the clicking pincers. "But why has he sent you?" 

I thought of getting to my feet but decided against it; I didn’t think my legs would support me. So I spoke from the ground, as calmly as I could. "They think, up at the school, that Hagrid’s been setting a— a— something on students. They’ve taken him to Azkaban."

Aragog clicked his pincers furiously, and all around the hollow the sound was echoed by the crowd of spiders; it was like applause, except applause didn’t usually make me feel sick with fear. 

"But that was years ago," said Aragog fretfully. "Years and years ago. I remember it well. That’s why they made him leave the school. They believed that I was the monster that dwells in what they call the Chamber of Secrets. They thought that Hagrid had opened the Chamber and set me free."

"And you... you didn’t come from the Chamber of Secrets?" I asked, feeling cold sweat on my forehead.         

"I!" said Aragog, clicking angrily. "I was not born in the castle. I come from a distant land. A traveler gave me to Hagrid when I was an egg. Hagrid was only a boy, but he cared for me, hidden in a cupboard in the castle, feeding me on scraps from the table. Hagrid is my good friend, and a good man. When I was discovered, and blamed for the death of a girl, he protected me. I have lived here in the forest ever since, where Hagrid still visits me. He even found me a wife, Mosag, and you see how our family has grown, all through Hagrid’s goodness..." 

I summoned what remained of my courage. "So you never— never attacked anyone?" 

"Never," croaked the old spider. "It would have been my instinct, but out of respect for Hagrid, I never harmed a human. The body of the girl who was killed was discovered in a bathroom. I never saw any part of the castle but the cupboard in which I grew up. Our kind like the dark and the quiet..." 

"But then… Do you know what  _did_  kill that girl?" I asked. "Because whatever it is, it’s back and attacking people again —" My words were drowned by a loud outbreak of clicking and the rustling of many long legs shifting angrily; large black shapes shifted all around me.

"The thing that lives in the castle," said Aragog, "is an ancient creature we spiders fear above all others. Well do I remember how I pleaded with Hagrid to let me go, when I sensed the beast moving about the school."

"What is it?" I asked urgently.  

More loud clicking, more rustling; the spiders seemed to be closing in.        

"We do not speak of it!" said Aragog fiercely. "We do not name it! I never even told Hagrid the name of that dread creature, though he asked me, many times."

I didn’t want to press the subject, not with the spiders pressing closer on all sides. Aragog seemed to be tired of talking. He was backing slowly into his domed web, but his fellow spiders continued to inch slowly toward Ron and I.

"We’ll just go, then," I called desperately to Aragog, hearing leaves rustling behind me.        

"Go?" said Aragog slowly. "I think not..."

"But — but —"        

"My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid, on my command. But I cannot deny them fresh meat, when it wanders so willingly into our midst. Good-bye, friend of Hagrid."

I spun around. Feet away, towering above me, was a solid wall of spiders, clicking, their many eyes gleaming in their ugly black heads. Even as I reached for my wand, I knew it was no good, there were too many of them, but as I tried to stand, ready to die fighting, a loud growl sounded, and, in front of Ron and I, a gigantic black beast, bigger than Aragog, landed, making us fall ace down onto the ground.

I thought it was going to hurt us too until I realized it was growling at the spiders. The growl turned into a roar, but it wasn't the kid you would hear from a lion. Quickly scrambling onto our feet, I looked closer and realized the creature was a giant wolf. The spiders slightly cowarded away for a moment before they started advancing on us again, making the wolf growl even louder before it started knocking aside every spider that got barely a few five feet from us. Suddenly, another loud, long note sounded, and this time, a blaze of light flamed through the hollow.    

Mr. Weasley’s car was thundering down the slope, headlights glaring, its horn screeching, knocking spiders aside; several were thrown onto their backs, their endless legs waving in the air. The car screeched to a halt in front of Ron and I and the doors flew open. I hesitated for a moment, looking at the wolf fighting to protect us, but the hesitation wore off when the large creature turned toward me and bore its large eyes into mine. It was hard to explain the familiarity and the safeness I felt just by looking into the eyes of a beast I had never seen in my life, but the moment I looked into its soft yet firm violet orchidee eyes. We locked gazes for only a fragment of a second, but it was long enough to make me react.

"Get Fang!" I yelled, diving into the front seat; Ron seized the boarhound around the middle and threw him, yelping, into the back of the car— the doors slammed shut— Ron didn’t touch the accelerator but the car didn’t need him; the engine roared and we were off, hitting more spiders. We sped up the slope, out of the hollow, and we were soon crashing through the forest, branches whipping the windows as the car wound its way cleverly through the widest gaps, following a path it obviously knew.

I looked sideways at Ron. His mouth was still open in the silent scream, but his eyes weren’t popping anymore.

"Are you okay?"

Ron stared straight ahead, unable to speak.

We smashed our way through the undergrowth, Fang howling loudly in the back seat, and I saw the side mirror snap off as we squeezed past a large oak. After ten noisy, rocky minutes, the trees thinned, and I could again see patches of sky.      

The car stopped so suddenly that we were nearly thrown into the windshield. We had reached the edge of the forest. Fang flung himself at the window in his anxiety to get out, and when I opened the door, he shot off through the trees to Hagrid’s house, tail between his legs. I got out too, and after a minute or so, Ron seemed to regain the feeling in his limbs and followed, still stiff-necked and staring. I gave the car a grateful pat as it reversed back into the forest and disappeared from view. 

Harry went back into Hagrid’s cabin to get the Invisibility Cloak. Fang was trembling under a blanket in his basket. When Harry got outside again, he found Ron being violent sick in the pumpkin patch.        

"Follow the spiders," said Ron weakly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "I’ll never forgive Hagrid. We’re lucky to be alive, if it wasn't for that wolf we'd be roasted."

"I bet he thought Aragog wouldn’t hurt friends of his," I said.

"That’s exactly Hagrid’s problem!" said Ron, thumping the wall of the cabin. "He always thinks monsters aren’t as bad as they’re made out, and look where it’s got him! A cell in Azkaban!" He was shivering uncontrollably now. "What was the point of sending us in there? What have we found out, I’d like to know?"

"That Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets," I said, throwing the cloak over Ron and prodding him in the arm to make him walk. "He was innocent."

Ron gave a loud snort. Evidently, hatching Aragog in a cupboard wasn’t his idea of being innocent.

As the castle loomed nearer I twitched the cloak to make sure our feet were hidden, then pushed the creaking front doors ajar. We walked carefully back across the entrance hall and up the marble staircase, holding our breath as we passed corridors where watchful sentries were walking. At last we reached the safety of the Gryffindor common room, where the fire had burned itself into glowing ash. We took off the cloak and climbed the winding stair to our dormitory.

Ron fell onto his bed without bothering to get undressed. I, however, didn’t feel very sleepy. I sat on the edge of my fourposter, thinking hard about everything that had happened and everything Aragog had said.

The creature that was lurking somewhere in the castle, I thought, sounded like a sort of monster Voldemort— even other monsters didn’t want to name it. But Ron and I were no closer to finding out what it was, or how it petrified its victims. Even Hagrid had never known what was in the Chamber of Secrets.

I swung my legs up onto my bed and leaned back against my pillows, watching the moon glinting at me through the tower window. I couldn’t see what else we could do. We had hit dead ends everywhere. Riddle had caught the wrong person, the Heir of Slytherin had got off, and no one could tell whether it was the same person, or a different one, who had opened the Chamber this time. There was nobody else to ask. I lay down, still thinking about what Aragog had said and about that black wolf.

Why did it look so familiar?

I was becoming drowsy when what seemed like our very last hope occurred to me, and I suddenly sat bolt upright.        

"Ron," I hissed through the dark, "Ron —"

Ron woke with a yelp like Fang’s, stared wildly around, and saw me.        

"Ron— that girl who died. Aragog said she was found in a bathroom," I said, ignoring Neville’s snuffling snores from the corner. "What if she never left the bathroom? What if she’s still there?"

Ron rubbed his eyes, frowning through the moonlight. And then he understood, too.        

"You  _don’t_  think — not  _Moaning Myrtle_?"


	18. Riddle

I had never been as exhausted as I was the next morning... okay, maybe I have, but not as much. I couldn't remember much after I ran from Herbology into the Forbidden Forest. Everything was a blur after I fell and my bones started cracking. I knew I shifted, but why couldn't I remember anything after that? Ever since I woke up this morning on the floor of my dorm, I've been trying recall the events from the previous night, but for some reason, all I kept seeing was giant spiders and a beat up turquoise car...

Something is seriously wrong with me.

What kept me from falling asleep after I left the Gryffindor tower was Ron's constant complaints about something I couldn't quite put my whole attention on.

"All those times we were in that bathroom, and she was just three toilets away," said Ron bitterly at breakfast, "and we could’ve asked her, and now..."

Harry then had explained to me what he and Ron had been doing the previous night, and it was then that I realized why I kept recalling giant spiders and a car. I was there. Good thing too or they might've ended up as dinner for the spiders. Harry explained to me how it had been hard enough trying to look for spiders. Escaping our teachers long enough to sneak into a girls’ bathroom, the girls’ bathroom, moreover, right next to the scene of the first attack, was going to be almost impossible.        

But something happened in our first lesson, Transfiguration, that drove the Chamber of Secrets out of their minds for the first time in weeks. Ten minutes into the class, Professor McGonagall told us that our exams would start earlier... in five days.        

" _Exams_?" howled Seamus. "We’re still getting exams?" I rolled my eyes. I mean, obviously we'll still get exams, it's a school for goodness sake.      

There was a loud bang behind Harry and I as Neville Longbottom’s wand slipped, vanishing one of the legs on his desk. Professor McGonagall restored it with a wave of her own wand, and turned, frowning, to Seamus.        

"The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education," she said sternly. "The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all studying hard."

Studying hard! Ugh! It might still be a school, but seriously, how can there still be exams with the castle in this state? There was a great deal of mutinous muttering around the room, which made Professor McGonagall scowl even more darkly.        

"Professor Dumbledore’s instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible," she said. "And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year."      

I looked down at the pair of white rabbits I was supposed to be turning into slippers. What had I learned so far this year? I couldn’t seem to think of anything that would be useful in an exam. Besides, I wouldn't need to. It all usually just comes to me when my knowledge needed. One of the perks of being the most powerful witch in the world.

Harry looked as though he had forgotten everything and Ron looked as though he’d just been told he had to go and live in the Forbidden Forest.        

"Can you imagine me taking exams with this?" he asked Harry and I, holding up his wand, which had just started whistling loudly.

Three days before our first exam, Professor McGonagall made another announcement at breakfast.  

"I have good news," she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted.        

"Dumbledore’s coming back!" several people yelled joyfully. That would really make my day.      

"You’ve caught the Heir of Slytherin!" squealed a girl at the Ravenclaw table. That would make my year!      

"Quidditch matches are back on!" roared Wood excitedly. I wanted to slap him so hard...      

When the hubbub had subsided, Professor McGonagall said, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."      

There was an explosion of cheering. I looked over at the Slytherin table and wasn’t at all surprised to see that Draco hadn’t joined in. Ron and Harry, however, were looking happier than they'd looked in days. I couldn't help but smile as well, I really missed Hermione.      

"It won’t matter that we never asked Myrtle, then!" Ron said to Harry and I. "Hermione’ll probably have all the answers when they wake her up! Mind you, she’ll go crazy when she finds out we’ve got exams in three days’ time. She hasn’t studied. It might be kinder to leave her where she is till they’re over.”        

Just then, Ginny came over and sat down next to Ron. She looked tense and nervous, and I noticed that her hands were twisting in her lap.        

"What’s up?" said Ron, helping himself to more porridge.        

Ginny didn’t say anything, but glanced up and down the Gryffindor table with a scared look on her face that reminded me of someone, though I couldn’t think who.

"Spit it out," said Ron, watching her.        

I suddenly realized who Ginny looked like. She was rocking backward and forward slightly in her chair, exactly like Dobby did when he was teetering on the edge of revealing forbidden information.        

"I’ve got to tell you something," Ginny mumbled, carefully not looking at Harry.

"What is it?" said Harry.        

Ginny looked as though she couldn’t find the right words.        

" _What_?" said Ron.        

Ginny opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Harry leaned forward and spoke quietly, so that only Ginny, Ron and I could hear him.        

"Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?"        

Ginny drew a deep breath and, at that precise moment, Percy appeared, looking tired and wan.        

"If you’ve finished eating, I’ll take that seat, Ginny. I’m starving, I’ve only just come off patrol duty."        

Ginny jumped up as though her chair had just been electrified, gave Percy a fleeting, frightened look, and scampered away. Percy sat down and grabbed a mug from the center of the table.        

"Percy!" said Ron angrily. "She was just about to tell us something important!"        

Halfway through a gulp of tea, Percy choked. "What sort of thing?" he said, coughing.        

"I just asked her if she’d seen anything odd, and she started to say..."        

"Oh— that— that’s nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets," said Percy at once.        

"How do you know?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised.        

"Well, er, if you must know, Ginny, er, walked in on me the other day when I was— well, never mind— the point is, she spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to anybody. I must say, I did think she’d keep her word. It’s nothing, really, I’d just rather—" Percy had never looked so uncomfortable.        

I felt my cheeks flush as I understood what he meant when he said Ginny had walked in on him, but I didn't care. Garr! I never disliked Percy or even got mad at him, but he really just pushed the last bit of nerves in me; I knew that she was going to tell us something very important.

"What were you doing, Percy?" said Ron, grinning. "Go on, tell us, we won’t laugh."

Percy didn’t smile back. "Pass me those rolls, Harry, I’m starving."

I knew the whole mystery might be solved tomorrow without our help, but unlike Harry and Ron, I had to pass up whatever chance to speak to Myrtle— and to my delight I did, midmorning, when we were being led to History of Magic by Lockhart.        

Lockhart, who had so often assured us that all danger had passed, only to be proved wrong right away, was now wholeheartedly convinced that it was hardly worth the trouble to see us safely down the corridors. His hair wasn’t as sleek as usual; it seemed he had been up most of the night, patrolling the fourth floor.

"Mark my words," he said, ushering us around a corner. "The first words out of those poor Petrified people’s mouths will be ‘It was Hagrid.’ Frankly, I’m astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary."        

"I agree, sir," said Harry, making me stare at him in disbelief and Ron drop his books in surprise.

"Thank you, Harry," said Lockhart graciously while we waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs to pass. "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and standing guard all night..."         
  
"That’s right," said Ron, catching on. "Why don’t you leave us here, sir, we’ve only got one more corridor to go —"         
  
"You know, Weasley, I think I will," said Lockhart. "I really should go and prepare my next class —" And he hurried off.   
  
He wasn't the only one who hurried off though. I ran to the library which is honestly a first for me since Hermione is usually the one to do so, but since she isn't here and there are many things that have been bothering me lately like that voice Harry and I keep hearing, the spiders running away, the petrifications... this makes me feel like I already knew the answer but forgot it. I ripped the page I needed from a book on he creatures for the magical world and ran to the Hospital Wing... by now I wonder how I haven't been caught.  
  
I got to Hermione, looked at her sadly and softly caressed her cheek. Like Ginny, she was the little sister I didn't have. Ginny. Remembering what I came to do, I balled the page I had ripped and hid it in her enclose fist. I knew Harry and Ron would find a way to come see her and would undoubtedly find the paper and realize what I did.  
  
With that, I kissed Hermione's cheek. "See you later," I whispered before running off to the girls dormitories.  
  
"Ginny, where are you?" I said as I entered her dorm.  
  
"Over here," she called from a window.  
  
"Are you okay, Ginny?" She nodded, as I placed a hand on her forehead. "Sure?" She whimpered and shook her head. This seemed like a déjà vu to me.  
  
"What? What is wrong?" I asked, putting an arm around her shoulders. She was about to answer me when she suddenly froze. "Ginny?"  
  
She did no reply.  
  
Face gone completely blank, eyes glazed, she stood up and grabbed what looked like a notebook.  
  
The diary.  
  
Once she had it, she made her stiffly made her way toward the door. Brows furrowed and lips pursed, I quietly followed her.  
  
Something was definitely wrong.  
  
It was a bit cold throughout the castle, and I was only wearing a pair of thin cotton pants and a t-shirt under my school robes instead of my uniform, but I shrugged the coldness off and continued my pursuit. I had to help Ginny.  
  
I followed her to a wall and frowned when I notice it was the one with the bloody writing on it. Finally it all came together. Ginny pulled out a diary and lied it open on the ground. After a few seconds had ticked by, some sort of black smoke— fog started building up into a cloud around the notebook. The moment it disappeared, a boy was standing before it. The boy seemed to be about sixteen. He silver prefect’s badge, glinting on his chest, he was much taller than me, and he, like Harry, had jet-black hair.   
  
Almost immediately, I knew who he was. "Tom," I said sharply.  
  
He looked up from the diary and smiled in a way that made e sick to my stomach.

"Evening, Delilah," said Riddle in a... suave tone as Alice would have called it.

"It is mid morning," I blurted out before mentally face-palming myself. Here I am, facing the most dangerous wizard in the world... probably about to get killed by him, and I bloody correct him on the time of day?! What the bloody hell is wrong with me?!  
  
He laughed, making me scowl at him.  
  
That bloody jerk laughed at me! Glaring at him, I spoke, "What are you even doing here, Tom? You are supposed to be dead... or something close to that."  Riddle laughed and stepped forward till he wa standing merely a foot away from me.  
  
"That's where you're wrong, princess." I scowled at him again, but he ignored it and stepped closer till his face was inches from mine. I tried to back away, but found myself pressed against a wall.  
  
When was I even close to a wall?  
  
"I am wrong?" I challenged, trying to keep his eyes on mine as I discreetly reached a hand inside my robes, searching for my wand, only to mentally curse myself as I came out empty-handed.  
  
I seriously need to stop forgetting my wand...  
  
"Yes," he replied, his breath brushing against my face. "In all my years, I have never felt more alive. And soon, I will be again and it'll all be over for everyone." I was glad he finally turned away when he said that— you have no idea how weird and creepy it feels to have a sixty-six year old that somehow looks like his sixteen year old self, breathing in your face.  
  
It was when he turned, though, that I remembered Ginny still standing there, under his spell.  
  
"What are you planning to do?" I quickly asked, trying to divert his attention from her while trying to find a way to break he out of his trance as well.  
  
He laughed  short, dry laugh, lookin at me with black eyes. "Why else would I want to open the Chamber?"  
  
I rolled my eyes. To unleash the monster inside, blah, blah— whatever, I know. "But what will you do when the gigantic snake is out? You cannot just let it roam freely around the world— would you even be able to take it everywhere— can it even swim or fit in a land or—"  
  
"What I will do with it is none of your concern yet, princess," he hissed, right in my face.  
  
I fought back an animalistic growl. "Oh, you bet it does, especially when it involves the world I grew up in. It is my concern, no matter the downs I have been through."  
  
"Not just yet." He smirked, reaching up to stroke my cheek, but this time, I didn't hold back the growl, only making his smirk widen.  
  
Rolling his eyes, he pressed me up against the wall again. "You must learn to behave yourself, as you will be my right hand when I reign."  
  
"I have told you before and I will tell you again— I will never join you," I snarled.  
  
He smirked darkly. "You won't be saying that in the next few moments."  
  
I had no idea what he meant by that, but only followed when he grabbed Ginny by the arm, and led her down a long passageway, clearly the only way to get to the deep undergrounds of this school.  
  
My eyes widened at the realization of where he was taking her and I instantly ran up to him and pulled him back by the arm.  
  
"Wait! Leave her! Please, not her... not my little sister. Take me, not her!" I begged, watching Ginny closely. "I'll join you— just leave her."  
  
He stared at me in shock for a moment, probably not expecting me to give in s quickly, but nodded all the same. He dropped Ginny. As soon as her eyes unglazed, she looked around, noticing what was happening, and started to tear up as she looked at me with panicky eyes.  
  
"Go, Ginny. And do not tell anyone... I am not afraid to die! Just go! Now!" I said, using my Alpha voice, knowing it would be the only way she would listen without questioning me in this moment. I watched as she scrambled onto her feet and did as I told her, trembling in fear. I then proceeded down into the chamber, with Riddle leading the way.   
  
He took me deep into the chamber, glancing over his shoulder every few minutes to make sure I hadn't run off, but I followed obediently. Why would I make it worse than it has to be?  
  
After a while, he finally stopped. "Quite brave aren't we? You're not afraid to die? Tell me, why is that?"   
  
"You'd be surprised to know that you're not the only foe I have. You've all tried to kill me many times, and all those times I've survived. I've faced death since I was but a fetus— I'm not afraid to face it again even if there's a chance it might be permanent this time," I replied.  
  
He laughed.   
  
"With your constant refusal to join, you can be sure you'll die. Foolish girl! All because you 'love'. Love is a weakness! a constant target! At this very moment, I'm feeding off your soul, off your power, strength, and energy. And there's nothing you can do to stop it!"   
  
"Who says I want to?" I smirked, narrowing my eyes at the boy in front of me. He glared, but his glare soon vanished and was replaced by a smirk.  
  
"Crucio!" I screamed in agony, but only for a second. I'm not going to give him the satisfactory. "Scream girl! Scream!"   
  
"No!" The minute the word escaped my mouth, I regretted it. The pain intensified, and before I passed out, I sent him a small smile. "Night Voldemort!"  
  


**Harry's P.O.V.**

"Prepare his class," Ron sneered after him. "Gone to curl his hair, more like."     

We let the rest of the Gryffindors draw ahead of us, then darted down a side passage and hurried off toward Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. But just as we were congratulating each other on their brilliant scheme.       

"Potter! Weasley! What are you doing?"

It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was the thinnest of thin lines. I started getting quite anxious, trying to come up with an excuse when I froze. She just called Ron and I, but why not Delilah?

I subtly glanced around only to find out she was gone. How long had she been gone, now? Where was—wait! What if she went to see...?

"We were— we were —" Ron stammered. "We were going to — to go and see —"

"Hermione," I blurted out. Ron and Professor McGonagall both looked at me.       

"We haven’t seen her for ages, Professor," I went on hurriedly, treading on Ron’s foot, "and we thought we’d sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry —"

Professor McGonagall was still staring at me, and for a moment, I thought she was going to explode, but when she spoke, it was in a strangely croaky voice.       

"Of course," she said, and I, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eye. "Of course, I realize this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been... I quite understand. Yes, Potter, of course you may visit Miss Granger. I will inform Professor Binns where you’ve gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission."

Ron and I walked away, hardly daring to believe that we’d avoided detention. As we turned the corner, we distinctly heard Professor McGonagall blow her nose.

"That," said Ron fervently, "was the best story you’ve ever come up with."     

We had no choice now but to go to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that we had Professor McGonagall's permission to visit Hermione.

Madam Pomfrey let us in, but reluctantly.       

"There’s just no point talking to a Petrified person," she said, and we had to admit she had a point when we’d taken our seats next to Hermione. It was plain that Hermione didn’t have the faintest inkling that she had visitors, and that we might just as well tell her bedside cabinet not to worry for all the good it would do.       

"Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?" said Ron, looking sadly at Hermione’s rigid face. "Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one’ll ever know..."

But I wasn’t looking at Hermione’s face. I was more interested in her right hand. It lay clenched on top of her blankets, and bending closer, he saw that a piece of paper was scrunched inside her fist.       

Making sure that Madam Pomfrey was nowhere near, I pointed this out to Ron.       

"Go on and get it out," Ron whispered, shifting his chair so that he blocked me from Madam Pomfrey’s view.       

It was no easy task. Hermione’s hand was clamped so tightly around the paper that I was sure I was going to tear it. While Ron kept watch I tugged and twisted, and at last, after several tense minutes, the paper came free.       

It was a page torn from a very old library book. I smoothed it out eagerly and Ron leaned close to read it, too.

" _Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it_."

And beneath this, a single word had been written, in a hand I recognized as Delilah’s.

_Pipes_.        

It was as though somebody had just flicked a light on in my brain.    

"Ron," I breathed. "This is it. This is the answer. The monster in the Chamber’s a  _basilisk_ — a giant serpent! That’s why I’ve been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It’s because I understand Parseltongue..."       

I looked up at the beds around me.       

"The basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one’s died— because no one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified. Justin... Justin must’ve seen the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn’t die again... and Hermione and that Ravenclaw prefect were found with a mirror next to them. Hermione had just realized the monster was a basilisk. I bet you anything she warned the first person she met to look around corners with a mirror first! And that girl pulled out her mirror— and—"  

Ron's jaw had dropped. "And Mrs. Norris?" he whispered eagerly.       

I thought hard, picturing the scene on the night of Halloween. "The water..." I said slowly. "The flood from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. I bet you Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection..."    

I scanned the page in his hand eagerly. The more I looked at it, the more it made sense.     

" _The crowing of the rooster..._   _is fatal to it_!" I read aloud. "Hagrid’s roosters were killed! The Heir of Slytherin didn’t want one anywhere near the castle once the Chamber was opened!  _Spiders flee before it_.! It all fits!"       

"But how’s the basilisk been getting around the place?" said Ron. "A giant snake... Someone would’ve seen..."      

I, however, pointed at the word Hermione had scribbled at the foot of the page. "Pipes," I said. "Pipes... Ron."

"Erm... a bathroom?"

I nodded.

"What’re we going to do?" said Ron, whose eyes were flashing. "Should we go straight to McGonagall?"        
  
"Let’s go to the staff room," I said, jumping up. "She’ll be there in ten minutes. It’s nearly break."       
  
We ran downstairs. Not wanting to be discovered hanging around in another corridor, we went straight into the deserted staff room. It was a large, paneled room full of dark, wooden chairs. Ron and I paced around it, too excited to sit down.          
  
But the bell to signal break never came.          
  
Instead, echoing through the corridors came Professor McGonagall’s voice, magically magnified.    
  
"All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."          
  
I wheeled around to stare at Ron. "Not another attack? Not now?"         
  
"What’ll we do?" said Ron, aghast. "Go back to the dormitory?"     
  
"No," I said, glancing around. There was an ugly sort of wardrobe to my left, full of the teachers’ cloaks. "In here. Let’s hear what it’s all about. Then we can tell them what we’ve found out."  
  
We  hid ourselves inside it, listening to the rumbling of hundreds of people moving overhead, and the staff room door banging open. From between the musty folds of the cloaks, we watched the teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared. Then Professor McGonagall arrived.  

"It has happened," she told the silent staff room. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."       

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth.

Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, "How can you be sure?"       

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. ‘ _Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever_.’"       

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.       

"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. "Which student?"      

"Ginny Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.  

"No, it wasn't Professor!" a voice cried out. Seconds later, a very breathless Ginny came running in, tearstains visible on her red cheeks.  
  
"Miss Weasley!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed herself in shock.  
  
"Delilah saw him possess me! She followed me! She sacrificed herself! Professor she told him I was her little sister and to take her into the chamber! He took her! You have to help her! Please Professor! Do something!" she begged, dropping to my knees as the tears fell down my face.  

"What!?" I shouted, coming out of our hiding place. Ron followed closely, many emotions splaying on his face. Anger, nervousness, but also relief. Probably that Ginny wasn't in there. I know he loves Delilah though, he thinks of her as a sister the same as he thinks of Ginny.  

"Harry you have to save her!" The floor vibrated beneath us and a light scream could be heard. We all winced, knowing who it was, but it cut off all of a sudden, and I think we all imagined the worst.  

"Scream, girl! Scream like they did when they gave their petty lives up for you!" a voice yelled, all our eyes widened. They were underground, whoever he was, he was obviously mad at her and she was obviously making it worse. 

"NO!" she shouted back.

"What's he doing to her? What is he doing?!" I demanded, punching the wall. "You!" I pointed at Lockhart with a cold glare, one that would have made Delilah proud. "You're the one always saying you know where the chamber is! Let's go!" I grabbed Lockhart and dragged him in the direction Ginny had just come from. I didn't care that all the teachers where watching me as I acted this way, I just wanted Deli safe.

"Harry!" Ginny whisper-yelled at me, making me stop a minute. "It's in the bathroom. Myrtle's bathroom!" I nodded and with that, I stomped off, Ron following right behind.


	19. The Heir of Slytherin in the Chamber of Secrets

We marched out of the out of the staff room and down the nearest stairs, along the dark corridor where the messages shone on the wall, to the door of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

We sent Lockhart in first. I was pleased to see that he was shaking. Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the tank of the end toilet.

"Oh, it’s you," she said when she saw me. "What do you want this time?"

"To ask you how you died," I said.

Myrtle’s whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very cubicle. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in."

"Who was it, Myrtle?" I asked.

"I don't know! I was distraught!" she exclaimed herself.

"But they said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then..." Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I  _died_."

I was puzzled. "Just like that? How?" I asked.

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away..." She looked dreamily at me, which honestly kind of creeped me out. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she’d ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" I said.

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Ron and I hurried over to it. Lockhart was standing well back, a look of utter terror on his face. It looked like an ordinary sink. We examined every inch of it, inside and out, including the pipes below. And then I saw it:

Scratched on the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny snake.

"That tap’s never worked," said Myrtle brightly as I tried to turn it.

"Harry," said Ron. "Say something. Something in Parseltongue."

"But―" I thought hard. The only times I’d ever managed to speak Parseltongue were when I’d been faced with a real snake. I stared hard at the tiny engraving, trying to imagine it was real.

"Open up," I said.

I looked at Ron, who shook his head.

"English," he said.

I looked back at the snake, willing myself to believe it was alive. If I moved my head, the candlelight made it look as though it were moving.

" _Open up_ ," I said.

Except that the words, apparently, weren’t what I heard as, at once, the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

I heard Ron gasp and looked up again. I had made up my mind what I was going to do.

"I’m going down there," I said. I couldn’t not go, not now we had found the entrance to the Chamber, not if there was even the faintest, slimmest, wildest chance that Delilah might be alive.

"Me too," said Ron.

There was a pause.

"Excellent, Harry. Good work. Well then. I'll just be going. There's no need for me..." said Lockhart, with a shadow of his old smile. "I’ll just―"

He put his hand on the door knob, but Ron and I both pointed our wands at him.

"Oh, yes there is," I snarled, glaring at him.

"You can go first," Ron finished.

White-faced and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening. "Boys," he said, his voice feeble. "Boys, what good will it do?"

I jabbed him in the back with my wand. Lockhart slid his legs into the pipe.

"A bloody lot of good if it's a two-hundred-foot drop onto jagged rocks," Ron hissed at him.

"I really don’t think―" Lockhart started to say, but Ron gave him a push, and he slid out of sight, head first.

We waited for a moment until finally, "It's really quite filthy in here."

I rolled my eyes and lowered myself slowly into the pipe, then let go. It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. I could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downward, and I knew that I was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons. Behind me, I could hear Ron, thudding slightly at the curves.

And then, just as I had begun to worry about what would happen when I hit the ground, the pipe leveled out, and I shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in. Lockhart was getting to his feet a little ways away, covered in slime and white as a ghost. I stood aside as Ron came whizzing out of the pipe, too.

"We must be miles under the school," I said, my voice echoing in the black tunnel.

"Under the lake, probably," said Ron, squinting around at the dark, slimy walls.

All three of us turned to stare into the darkness ahead.

"Lumos!" I muttered to my wand and it lit again. "C’mon." And off we went, our footsteps slapping loudly on the wet floor.

The tunnel was so dark that we could only see a little distance ahead. Our shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the wandlight.

"Remember," I said quietly as we walked cautiously forward, "any sign of movement, close your eyes right away..."

But the tunnel was quiet as the grave, and the first unexpected sound we heard was a loud crunch as Ron stepped on what turned out to be a rat’s skull. I lowered my wand to look at the floor and saw that it was littered with small animal bones. Trying very hard not to imagine what Delilah might look like if we found her, I led the way forward, around a dark bend in the tunnel.

"Harry― there’s something up there―" said Ron hoarsely, grabbing my shoulder.

We froze, watching. I could just see the outline of something huge and curved, lying right across the tunnel. It wasn’t moving.

"Maybe it’s asleep," I breathed, glancing back at the other two.

Lockhart’s hands were pressed over his eyes. I turned back to look at the thing, my heart beating so fast it hurt. Very slowly, my eyes as narrow as I could make them and still see, I edged forward, my wand held high. The light slid over a gigantic snake skin, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that had shed it must have been twenty feet long at least.

"Blimey," said Ron weakly.

There was a sudden movement behind us. Gilderoy Lockhart’s knees had given way.

"Get up," said Ron sharply, pointing his wand at Lockhart.

Lockhart got to his feet― then he dived at Ron, knocking him to the ground. I jumped forward, but too late― Lockhart was straightening up, panting, Ron’s wand in his hand and a gleaming smile back on his face.

"The adventure ends here, boys!" he said. "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body― say good-bye to your memories!"

He raised Ron’s Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, "Obliviate!"

The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. I flung my arms over my head and ran, slipping over the coils of snake skin, out of the way of great chunks of tunnel ceiling that were thundering to the floor. Next moment, I was standing alone, gazing at a solid wall of broken rock.

"Ron!" he shouted. "Are you okay? Ron!"

"I’m here!" came Ron’s muffled voice from behind the rockfall. "I’m okay― this git’s not, though― he got blasted by the wand―"

There was a dull thud and a loud "ow!" It sounded as though Ron had just kicked Lockhart in the shins.

"What now?" Ron’s voice said, sounding desperate. "We can’t get through― it’ll take ages..."

I looked up at the tunnel ceiling. Huge cracks had appeared in it. I had never tried to break apart anything as large as these rocks by magic, and now didn’t seem a good moment to try― what if the whole tunnel caved in?

There was another thud and another "ow!" from behind the rocks. They were wasting time. Delilah had already been in the Chamber of Secrets for hours... I knew there was only one thing to do.

"Wait there," I called to Ron. "Wait with Lockhart. I’ll go on... If I’m not back in an hour..."

There was a very pregnant pause, "I’ll try and shift some of this rock," said Ron, who seemed to be trying to keep his voice steady. "So you can― can get back through. And, Harry―"

"See you in a bit," I said, trying to inject some confidence into my shaking voice.

And he set off alone past the giant snake skin.

Soon the distant noise of Ron straining to shift the rocks was gone. The tunnel turned and turned again. Every nerve in my body was tingling unpleasantly. I wanted the tunnel to end, yet dreaded what I’d find when it did. And then, at last, as I crept around yet another bend, he saw a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

I approached, my throat very dry. There was no need to pretend these stone snakes were real; their eyes looked strangely alive. I could guess what I had to do. I cleared my throat, and the emerald eyes seemed to flicker.

" _Open_ ," I said, in a low, faint hiss.

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and I, shaking from head to foot, walked inside.

I was standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place. My heart beating very fast, I stood listening to the chill silence. Could the basilisk be lurking in a shadowy corner, behind a pillar? And where was Delilah?

I pulled out my wand and moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. I kept my eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest sign of movement. The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes seemed to be following me. More than once, with a jolt of the stomach, I thought I saw one stir.

Then, as I drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall.  
I had to crane my neck to look up into the giant face above: It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard’s sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between the feet, face down, lay a small, black-robed figure with light brown hair.

"Lilly!" I muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to my knees. "Lilly― don’t be dead― please don’t be dead―" I flung his wand aside, grabbed Delilah’s shoulders, and turned her over. Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn’t Petrified. But then she must be...

"Deli, please wake up," I muttered desperately, shaking her. Delilah’s head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

"She won’t wake," said a soft voice.

I jumped and spun around on my knees.

A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though I was looking at him through a misted window. But there was no mistaking him.

"Tom― Tom Riddle?"

Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off my face.

"What d’you mean, she won’t wake?" I said desperately. "She’s not― she’s not―?"

"She’s still alive," said Riddle. "But only just."

I stared at him. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen.

"Are you a ghost?" I asked uncertainly.

"A memory," said Riddle quietly. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

He pointed toward the floor near the statue’s giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary I had found in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. For a second, I wondered how it had got there― but there were more pressing matters to deal with.

"You’ve got to help me, Tom," I pleaded, raising Delilah’s head again. "We’ve got to get her out of here. There’s a basilisk... I don’t know where it is, but it could be along any moment... Please, help me."

Riddle didn’t move. I, sweating, managed to hoist Delilah half off the floor, and bent to pick up my wand again.

But my wand had gone.

"Did you see―" I looked up. Riddle was still watching me― twirling my wand between his long fingers. "Thanks," I said, stretching out my hand for it.  
  
A smile curled the corners of Riddle’s mouth. He continued to stare at me, twirling the wand idly.

"Listen," I said urgently, my knees sagging with Delilah’s dead weight. "We’ve got to go! If the basilisk comes―"

"It won’t come until it is called," said Riddle calmly.

I lowered Delilah back onto the floor, unable to hold her up any longer.

"What d’you mean?" I said. "Look, give me my wand, I might need it―"

Riddle’s smile broadened. "You won’t be needing it," he said.

I stared at him. "What d’you mean, I won’t be―"

"I’ve waited a long time for this, Harry Potter," said Riddle. "For the chance to see you. To speak to you."

"Look," I said, losing patience, "I don’t think you get it. We’re in the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later―"

"We’re going to talk now," said Riddle, still smiling broadly, and he pocketed my wand.

I stared at him. There was something very funny going on here...

"How did Delilah get like this?" I asked slowly.

"Well, that’s an interesting question," said Riddle pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Delilah Hawkins’ like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger just like little Ginny Weasley."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, puzzled.

"The diary," said Riddle. "My diary. Little Ginny’s been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes― how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how―" Riddle’s eyes glinted "― how she didn’t think famous, good, great Harry Potter and Delilah Hawkins would ever like her enough to be her friend..."

 All the time he spoke, Riddle’s eyes never left my face. There was an almost hungry look in them.

"It’s very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me.  _No one’s ever understood me like you, Tom_..." He smiled manically. "And it only got better when she had Delilah start writing as well.  _Sometimes... I feel so small and vulnerable against the whole world... I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in_...  _It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket_..."

Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn’t suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

"If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted... I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, and then with Delilah, it was her darkest...  _secrets_. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley and Miss Hawkins. But I had to be careful, didn't I? Delilah was getting suspicious, and I couldn't let her just tell everyone what her pretty little mind had rightfully concluded. So I wiped her and focused on resuming my power gaining. And I went on until I was powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her..."

"What d’you mean?" I asked, mouth gone very dry.

"Haven’t you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" said Riddle softly. He laughed. "Even your little Lilly figured it out... why and how do you think she's even here right now?" I frowned, still not comprehending what he was going on about.

Tom chuckled. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib’s cat."

My eyes widened in shock. "No," I whispered.

"Yes," said Riddle, calmly. "Of course, she didn’t know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries... far more interesting, they became...  _Dear Tom_ ," he recited, watching my horrified face, "' _I think I’m losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don’t know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can’t remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I’ve got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I’m pale and I’m not myself. I think he suspects me... There was another attack today... Delilah was hurt, and I don’t know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I’m going mad... I think I’m the one attacking everyone, Tom!_ '"

 My fists were clenched, the nails digging deep into my palms.

"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to finally listen to Delilah and stop trusting her diary," said Riddle. "She finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that’s where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn’t have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet..."

"And why did you want to meet me?” I asked. Anger was coursing through me, and it was an effort to keep my voice steady.

"Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry," said Riddle. "And your pretty little girlfriend confirmed it all. Your whole fascinating history." His eyes roved over the lightning scar on my forehead, and their expression grew hungrier. "I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust―"

"Hagrid’s my friend," I said, my voice now shaking. "And you framed him, didn’t you? I thought you made a mistake, but―"

Riddle laughed his high laugh again.

"It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student... on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls... but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realize that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance... as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!"

He paused, a look of hatred flashing through his eyes. "Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed... Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did..."

"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," I said, my teeth gritted.

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," said Riddle carelessly. "I knew it wouldn’t be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn’t going to waste those long years I’d spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin’s noble work."

"Well, you haven’t finished it," I said triumphantly. "No one’s died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again―"

"Haven’t I already told you," said Riddle quietly, "that killing Mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been― you."

I stared at him.

"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who’d been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin’s heir. From everything Ginny and Delilah had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery― particularly if one of your best friends, or even worse― the girl you love so deeply was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue..."

"So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. Of course, Delilah wouldn't let that happen so she told me to take her instead― to spare Ginny's life. Let me tell you, it was amusing to watch her beg, and then struggle when I had her within my grasp― she's quite the feisty one. You have great taste, I'll give you that, Harry. Unfortunately it became annoying how stubborn she was when she'd refuse joining me. If she didn't join me, well, I couldn't just have her wandering around freely, telling my secrets and plans to the world no matter her previously being mute." Riddle chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "But there isn’t much life left in her... She put too much into the diary, into me. Less than Ginny, but what she put in was much more powerful― enough to let me leave its pages at last... I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you’d come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

"Like what?" I spat, fists still clenched.

"Well," said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, "how is it that you― a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent― managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?"

There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now.

"Why do you care how I escaped?" I asked slowly. "Voldemort was after your time..."

"Voldemort," said Riddle softly, "is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter..."

He pulled my wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:

_I AM LORD VOLDEMORT_

"You see?" he whispered. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father’s name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry― I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

My brain seemed to have jammed. I stared numbly at Riddle, at the orphaned boy who had grown up to murder my own parents, and so many others... At last I forced myself to speak.

"You’re not," I said, my quiet voice full of hatred.

"Not what?" snapped Riddle.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," I said, breathing fast. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn’t dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you’re hiding these days―"

The smile had gone from Riddle’s face, to be replaced by a very ugly look.

"Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!" he hissed.

"He’s not as gone as you might think!" I retorted. I was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true.

Riddle opened his mouth, but froze.

Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on my scalp and made my heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that I felt it vibrating inside his own ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.

A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock’s and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle.

A second later, the bird was flying straight at me. It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying at my feet, then landed heavily on my shoulder. As it folded its great wings, I looked up and saw it had a long, sharp golden beak and a beady black eye.

The bird stopped singing. It sat still and warm next to my cheek, gazing steadily at Riddle.

"That’s a phoenix," said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.

"Fawkes?" I breathed, and I felt the bird’s golden claws squeeze my shoulder gently.

"And that―" said Riddle, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped, "that’s the old school Sorting Hat―"

So it was. Patched, frayed, and dirty, the hat lay motionless at my feet.

Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once.

"This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"

I didn’t answer. I might not see what use Fawkes or the Sorting Hat were, but I was no longer alone, and I waited for Riddle to stop laughing with his courage mounting.

"To business, Harry," said Riddle, still smiling broadly. "Twice― in your past, in my future― we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you talk," he added softly, "the longer you stay alive."

I was thinking fast, weighing his chances. Riddle had the wand. I had Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, neither of which would be much good in a duel. It looked bad, all right... but the longer Riddle stood there, the more life was dwindling out of Delilah... and in the meantime, I noticed suddenly, Riddle’s outline was becoming clearer, more solid... If it had to be a fight between Riddle and I, better sooner than later.

"No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me," I said abruptly. "I don’t know myself. But I know why you couldn’t kill me. Because my mother died to save me. My common Muggle-born mother," I added, shaking with suppressed rage. "She stopped you killing me. And I’ve seen the real you, I saw you last year. You’re a wreck. You’re barely alive. That’s where all your power got you. You’re in hiding. You’re ugly, you’re foul―"

Riddle’s face contorted. Then he forced it into an awful smile. "So. Your mother died to save you. Yes, that’s a powerful countercharm. I can see now... there is nothing special about you, after all. I wondered, you see. There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths, excluding Delilah, to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike... but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That’s all I wanted to know."

I stood, tense, waiting for Riddle to raise my wand. But Riddle’s twisted smile was widening again.

"Now, Harry, I’m going to teach you a little lesson. Let’s match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him..."

He cast an amused eye over Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, then walked away. I, fear spreading up my numb legs, watched Riddle stop between the high pillars and look up into the stone face of Slytherin, high above him in the half-darkness. Riddle opened his mouth wide and hissed― but I understood what he was saying...

" _Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four_."

I wheeled around to look up at the statue, Fawkes swaying on my shoulder.

Slytherin’s gigantic stone face was moving. Horrorstruck, I saw his mouth opening, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole.

And something was stirring inside the statue’s mouth. Something was slithering up from its depths.

I backed away until I hit the dark Chamber wall, and as I shut my eyes tight I felt Fawkes’ wing sweep my cheek as he took flight. I wanted to shout, "Don’t leave me!" but what chance did a phoenix have against the king of serpents?

Something huge hit the stone floor of the Chamber. I felt it shudder― I knew what was happening, I could sense it, could almost see the giant serpent uncoiling itself from Slytherin’s mouth. Then I heard Riddle’s hissing voice:

" _Kill him._ "

The basilisk was moving toward me; I could hear its heavy body slithering heavily across the dusty floor. Eyes still tightly shut, I began to run blindly sideways, my hands outstretched, feeling my way― Voldemort was laughing.

I tripped. I fell hard onto the stone and tasted blood the serpent was barely feet from me, I could hear it coming.

There was a loud, explosive spitting sound right above him, and then something heavy hit me so hard that I was smashed into the wall. Waiting for fangs to sink through my body I heard more mad hissing, something thrashing wildly off the pillars.

I couldn’t help it― I opened my eyes wide enough to squint at what was going on.

The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between the pillars. As I trembled, ready to close my eyes if it turned I saw what had distracted the snake.

Fawkes was soaring around its head, and the basilisk was snapping furiously at him with fangs long and thin as sabers Fawkes dived. His long golden beak sank out of sight and a sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor. The snake’s tail thrashed, narrowly missing me, and before I could shut my eyes, it turned― I looked straight into its face and saw that its eyes, both its great, bulbous yellow eyes, had been punctured by the phoenix; blood was streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting in agony.

"NO!" I heard Riddle screaming. "LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU. YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM. KILL HIM!"

The blinded serpent swayed, confused, still deadly. Fawkes was circling its head, piping his eerie song, jabbing here and there at its scaly nose as the blood poured from its ruined eyes.

"Help me, help me," Harry muttered wildly, "someone― anyone..."

The snake’s tail whipped across the floor again. I ducked. Something soft hit my face.

The basilisk had swept the Sorting Hat into my arms. I seized it. It was all I had left, my only chance― I rammed it onto myhead and threw myself flat onto the floor as the basilisk’s tail swung over me again _._

_Help me― help me_ , I thought, my eyes screwed tight under the hat.  _Please help me._

There was no answering voice. Instead, the hat contracted, as though an invisible hand was squeezing it very tightly.

"KILL THE BOY! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU. SNIFF― SMELL HIM."

Something very hard and heavy thudded onto the top of my head, almost knocking me out. Stars winking in front of my eyes, but before I could react, a beautiful voice caught my attention.

"HEY!"

I turned around, only to find Delilah standing, eyes glazed, holding a gleaming silver sword by its handle that glittered with rubies the size of eggs in her hand that still looked as delicate as it always did.  
  
I was on my feet, ready. The basilisk’s head was falling, its body coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face her for a second before turning back to me. I could see the vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough to swallow me whole, lined with fangs long as the sword Delilah held, thin, glittering, venomous―  
  
It lunged blindly― I dodged and it hit the Chamber wall. It lunged again, and its forked tongue lashed my side. It lunged once more, but this time, as I dodged, Delilah came in between the creature and I, and glared up at it.

The monster froze for a second before hissing ever so loudly and charging towards her. Doing a back handspring, Delilah flipped out of the way before it hit another pillar. Coming back for more, she dodged its for forked tung, nearly slipping over the wet ground and slashed at him, cutting off a few hinder fangs. The enormous snake hissed in fury and agony and lunged forward. Delilah quickly dodged the attack, though she lost her focus for a second only to be swatted like a fly against a pillar and losing consciousness.

Panicking, I glanced around and noticed the sword Delilah had dropped when she was thrown, glimmering on the wet stone floor. Slightly stumbling, I ran over to it and snatched it from the ground, gaining the basilisk's attention.

I raised the sword in both my hands―

The basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true― I threw my whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent’s mouth―

But as warm blood drenched my arms, I felt a searing pain just above my elbow. One long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into my arm and it splintered as the basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.

I slid down the wall. I gripped the fang that was spreading poison through my body and wrenched it out of my arm. But hI e knew it was too late. White-hot pain was spreading slowly and steadily from the wound. Even as I dropped the fang and watched my own blood soaking my robes, my vision went foggy. The Chamber was dissolving in a whirl of dull color. I did my best to shake it off though; I had to make sure that at least Delilah survived.

A patch of scarlet swam past, and I heard a soft clatter of claws beside me.

"Fawkes," I said thickly. "You were fantastic, Fawkes..."

I felt the bird lay its beautiful head on the spot where the serpent’s fang had pierced me. Icould hear echoing footsteps and then a dark shadow moved in front of me.

"You’re dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle’s voice above me. "Dead. Even Dumbledore’s bird knows it. Do you see what he’s doing, Potter? He’s crying."

I blinked. Fawke’s head slid in and out of focus. Thick, pearly tears were trickling down the glossy feathers.

"I’m going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I’m in no hurry."

I felt drowsy. Everything around me seemed to be spinning.

"So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle’s distant voice. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You’ll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry... She bought you twelve years of borrowed time... but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must..."

_If this is dying_ , I thought,  _it’s not so bad_.

Even the pain was leaving me.

_But was this dying?_  Instead of going black, the Chamber seemed to be coming back into focus. I gave my head a little shake and there was Fawkes, still resting his head on my arm. A pearly patch of tears was shining all around the wound― except that there was no wound.

"Get away, bird," said Riddle’s voice suddenly. "Get away from him― I said, get away―"

I raised my head. Riddle was pointing my wand at Fawkes; there was a bang like a gun, and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet.

"Phoenix tears..." said Riddle quietly, staring at my arm. "Of course... healing powers... I forgot..."

He looked into my face. "But it makes no difference." That was true; I wasn't entirely healed, I could feel it. There was still I chance I might die. "In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter... you and me..."

He raised the wand...

Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes had soared back overhead and something fell into my lap― the diary.

For a split second, both Riddle and I, wand still raised, stared at it. Then, without thinking, without considering, as though I had meant to do it all along, I seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to me and plunged it straight into the heart of the book. There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over my hands, flooding the floor. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then―

He had gone. My wand fell to the floor with a clatter and there was silence. Silence except for the steady drip drip of ink still oozing from the diary. The basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hole right through it.

Shaking all over, I pulled myself up. My head was spinning as though I’d just traveled miles by Floo powder. Slowly, I gathered together my wand and the Sorting Hat, and, with a huge tug, retrieved the glittering sword Delilah had thrust into the roof of the basilisk’s mouth.

Then came a faint moan from the end of the Chamber. Delilah was stirring. As I hurried toward her, her beautiful eyes fluttered open and she sat up, gasping for air. Her bemused eyes traveled from the huge form of the dead basilisk, over me, in my blood-soaked robes, then to the diary in his hand. She drew a great, shuddering breath as she stared at me in disbelief yet relief.


	20. Yay! Dobby was rewarded and I was... kidnapped? Great...

**Delilah's P.O.V.**

My eyes fluttered open as I gasped for air. My whole body hurt like hell. But I didn't care. All that mattered the most at the moment was the fact that Harry was with me.

"Ha-Harry? What happened?"  

"He's dead. I-I killed him!"

"And the basilisk?" My voice was shaky, I couldn't breathe, I need to get out of here. I need Madam Pomfrey! Wait, who?

"It's dead too... You're going to be okay, just hang on, Lilly!" I nodded my head, trying to keep my breathing steady. It was getting harder by the minute and I felt scared. Then I saw the blood on his arm.  

"Harry, you are hurt! Damn, I am so not doing a good job at keeping you safe," I muttered.  

"I'm fine. We need to get you out of here! I'll be okay!" He gave me a small smile. At that moment, a red phoenix came flying in. It landed between Harry and I, and looked at Harry's arm. A small tear rolled down its face, and landed on the wound, healing it in seconds.

"Thanks, Fawkes." Harry moved his arm happily. Black spots started to take over my vision.  

"Harry?" He looked at me curiously. I blinked hard, causing my vision to clear. "Thank you!" I crashed my lips onto his. He just saved my life when I was supposed to save his. It took him a minute to react, but he did. He placed his hands on my hips while I tangled my fingers in his hair. When we pulled away, I smiled at him then let the blackness take over.

I was only out for a few minutes. Fawkes was waiting for us, hovering in the Chamber entrance. Harry urged me forward; we stepped over the motionless coils of the dead basilisk, through the echoing gloom, and back into the tunnel. Harry heard the stone doors close behind us with a soft hiss.

After a few minutes’ progress up the dark tunnel, a distant sound of slowly shifting rock reached my ears.

"Ron!" Harry yelled, speeding up. I looked at him surprised. Ron was here too? "Deli’s okay! I’ve got her!"

I heard Ron give a strangled cheer, and we turned the next bend to see his eager face staring through the sizable gap he had managed to make in the rock fall.

"Deli!" Ron thrust an arm through the gap in the rock to pull me through first. "You’re alive! I don’t believe it! What happened? How― what― where did that bird come from?"

Fawkes had swooped through the gap after me and landed on my shoulder, pecking softly at my cheek as if kissing me. I couldn't help but smile fondly at the wonderful creature.

"He’s Dumbledore’s," said Harry, squeezing through himself.

"How come you’ve got a sword?" said Ron, gaping at the glittering weapon in Harry’s hand.

"I’ll explain when we get out of here," said Harry with a sideways glance at me.

"But―"

"Later," Harry said shortly. "Where’s Lockhart?"

I gave them a puzzled look. "Lockhart?"

Harry looked at me with a soft look on his face. "I'll explain later."

"He's back there," said Ron, still looking puzzled but jerking his head up the tunnel toward the pipe. "He’s in a bad way. Come and see."

Led by Fawkes, whose wide scarlet wings emitted a soft golden glow in the darkness, we walked all the way back to the mouth of the pipe. Lockhart was sitting there, humming placidly to himself.

"His memory’s gone," said Ron. "The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn’t got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He’s a danger to himself."

Lockhart peered good-naturedly up at us all.  
  
"Hello," he said. "Odd sort of place, this, isn’t it? Do you live here?"

"No," said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry and I. 

Harry bent down and looked up the long, dark pipe. "Have you thought how we’re going to get back up this?" he asked.

Ron shook his head, but Fawkes the phoenix had swooped past Harry and I, and was now fluttering in front of us, his beady eyes bright in the dark. He was waving his long golden tail feathers. Harry looked uncertainly at him while I simply smiled fondly at the creature.

"He looks like he wants you to grab hold..." said Ron, looking perplexed. "But you’re much too heavy for a bird to pull up there―"

"Fawkes," I said, "isn’t an ordinary bird." 

Harry nodded before turning quickly to us. "We’ve got to hold on to each other. Delilah, grab Ron’s hand. Professor Lockhart―"

"He means you," said Ron sharply to Lockhart.

"You hold Delilah’s other hand―"

Harry tucked the sword and the Sorting Hat into his belt, Ron took hold of the back of Harry’s robes, and Harry reached out and took hold of Fawkes’s strangely hot tail feathers.

An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through my whole body and the next second, in a rush of wings, we were flying upward through the pipe. I could hear Lockhart dangling below me, saying, "Amazing! Amazing! This is just like magic!" The chill air was whipping through my long hair, and before I’d stopped enjoying the ride, it was over― all four of them were hitting the wet floor of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, and as Lockhart straightened his hat, the sink that hid the pipe was sliding back into place.

Myrtle goggled at us.

"You’re alive," she said blankly to Harry.

"There’s no need to sound so disappointed," he said grimly, wiping flecks of blood and slime off his glasses before taking a hold of my hand.

"Oh, well... I’d just been thinking... if you had died, you’d have been welcome to share my toilet," said Myrtle, blushing silver. I couldn't help but look at her weirdly. Why is she acting like this towards him?

"Urgh!" said Ron as we left the bathroom for the dark, deserted corridor outside. "Harry! I think Myrtle’s grown fond of you! You’ve got competition, Deli!"

But I was actually just confused at what he meant by that― I just learned what Valentine's day meant not too long ago, so what do you expect?

"Where now?" said Ron, with an anxious look at me.

Harry pointed. Fawkes was leading the way, glowing gold along the corridor. We strode after him, and moments later, found ourselves outside Professor McGonagall’s office.

Harry knocked and pushed the door open.

For a moment there was silence as Harry, Ron, Lockhart and I stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Harry and my case) blood. Then there was a scream.

"Deli!"

It was Ginny, who had been sitting in front of the fire, crying in her mother's arms. She leapt onto her feet and flung herself on me, making me slightly stiffen but then eventually relax and hug her back.

Harry, however, was looking past us. Grandpa D was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest. Fawkes went whooshing past Harry’s ear and above my head before finally settling on grandpa D's shoulder, just as I then found myself, Harry and Ron being swept into Mrs. Weasley’s tight embrace.

"You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?"      

"I think we’d all like to know that," said Professor McGonagall weakly.

Mrs. Weasley let go of me and Harry, who hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby-encrusted sword, and what remained of Riddle’s diary.

Then he started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of an hour he spoke into the rapt silence. He told them about the both of us hearing the disembodied voice, how Hermione and I had finally realized that we were hearing a basilisk in the pipes; how he and Ron had followed the spiders into the forest, that Aragog had told them where the last victim of the basilisk had died and then tried to eat them only to be saved by the giant wolf, me― thank god they didn't say that; how he had guessed that Moaning Myrtle had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom...

"Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted him as he paused, "so you found out where the entrance was― breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add― but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?"

So Harry, his voice now growing hoarse from all this talking, told them about Fawkes’s timely arrival and about the Sorting Hat giving him the sword. But then he faltered. He had so far avoided mentioning Riddle’s diary― or Ginny and me. Ginny was standing with her head against Mrs. Weasley’s shoulder, and tears were still coursing silently down her cheeks.

 _What if they expelled her?_  I could hear Harry think.  _Riddle’s diary didn’t work anymore... How could they prove it had been he who’d made her do it all?_

I faintly smiled down at my feet and thought to him, " _They won't_."

Instinctively, Harry looked up at me and slightly relaxed when I sent him a secretive smile. Then he looked at grandpa D, who smiled faintly, the firelight glancing off his half-moon spectacles.  

"What interests me most," said Dumbledore gently, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania."

I could tell Harry was relieved by this, though Mr. and Mrs. Weasley... not as much.

"W-what’s that?" said Mr. Weasley in a stunned voice. "You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny’s not... Ginny hasn’t been... has she?"

"It was this diary," said Harry quickly, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen..."

Dumbledore took the diary from Harry and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages.

"Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered.  

"Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school... traveled far and wide… sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."

"But, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley. "What’s our Ginny got to do with― with― him?"

"His d-diary" Ginny sobbed. "I’ve b-been writing in it, and he’s been w-writing back all year―"

"Ginny!" said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. "Haven’t I taught you anything. What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain? Why didn’t you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic!"

"I d-didn’t know," sobbed Ginny. "I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it. I told Deli about it and she did some research on it and found out what was really happening, but then― I-I don't know, she got―"

"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away," grandpa D interrupted in a firm voice. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up," he added, twinkling kindly down at her. "You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She’s just giving out Mandrake juice― I daresay the basilisk’s victims will be waking up any moment."

"So Hermione’s okay!" said Ron brightly.

"There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny," said Dumbledore.

Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr. Weasley followed, still looking deeply shaken.

"You know, Minerva," Dumbledore said thoughtfully to Professor McGonagall, "I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?"      

"Right," said Professor McGonagall crisply, also moving to the door. "I’ll leave you to deal with Hawkins, Potter and Weasley, shall I?"

"Certainly," said Dumbledore.

She left, and Harry and Ron gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore while I started feeling weird all of a sudden... like if something was going to happen, but nothing that had to do with what we had just gone through.

"I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules," Dumbledore told Harry and Ron.

Ron opened his mouth in horror.

"Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words," he went on, smiling. "You will both receive Special Awards for Services to the School and― let me see― yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor and another hundred for you Delilah, for being brave and putting others before yourself."

Ron went as brightly pink as Lockhart’s valentine flowers and closed his mouth again while I smiled a small smile.  

"But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure," Dumbledore added. "Why so modest, Gilderoy?"

Harry gave a start. I'm guessing he had forgotten about Lockhart too. Harry and I turned and saw that Lockhart was standing in a corner of the room, still wearing his vague smile. When Dumbledore addressed him, Lockhart looked over his shoulder to see who he was talking to.

"Professor Dumbledore," Ron said quickly, "there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart―"

"Am I a professor?" said Lockhart in mild surprise. "Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?"

"He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired," Ron explained quietly to Dumbledore.

"Dear me," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver mustache quivering. "Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!"

"Sword?" said Lockhart dimly. "Haven’t got a sword. That boy has, though." He pointed at Harry. "He’ll lend you one." I choked back a laugh.

"Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary, too?" Dumbledore said to Ron. "I’d like a few more words with Harry and Delilah..."

Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back at Dumbledore, Harry and I as he closed the door.

Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire.

"Sit down, Harry. You as well, Delilah," he said, and Harry and I sat, feeling unaccountably nervous.

"First of all, I want to thank the both of you,” said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you."

He stroked the phoenix, which had fluttered down onto his knee. Harry grinned awkwardly as Dumbledore watched us.

"And so you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully, making me instantly stiffen then shudder at the memory of the two times I met the bastard. "I imagine he was most interested in you..."      

"Professor Dumbledore... Riddle said that Delilah and I are like him. Strange likenesses, he said..." Harry started, glancing at me.

"Did he, now?" said Dumbledore, looking thoughtfully at Harry then at me from under his thick silver eyebrows. "And what do you think, Harry?"

"I don’t think we're like him!" said Harry, more loudly than he’d intended. "I mean, we're― we're in Gryffindor, we're..."

But he fell silent, a lurking doubt seeming to resurface in his mind.

"Professor," he started again after a moment. "The Sorting Hat told me I’d― I’d have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought I was Slytherin’s heir for a while... because I can speak Parseltongue..."

"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry, and so can Delilah," said Dumbledore calmly, "but that is because Lord Voldemort― who is the last remaining ancestor of Salazar Slytherin― can speak Parseltongue. Unless I’m much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to the both you the night he gave you those scars. Not something he intended to do, I’m sure..."      

"Voldemort put a bit of himself in us?" Harry said, thunderstruck. I don't blame him, even I was shocked by the news.      

"It certainly seems so."      

"So we should be in Slytherin," Harry said, looking desperately into Dumbledore’s face. "The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin’s power in us, and Delilah told me that it also― and it―"

"Put you in Gryffindor," said Dumbledore calmly. "Listen to me. The both of you happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue― resourcefulness― determination― a certain disregard for rules," he added, his mustache quivering again. "Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think."      

"It only put me in Gryffindor," said Harry in a defeated voice, "because I asked not to go in Slytherin..."

I nodded. "The sorting hat let me choose what house I wanted to be in, and I chose Gryffindor, but it also said I would do good in Slytherin."

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

Harry sat motionless in his chair, probably as stunned as I was. "If you want proof, Harry, Delilah, that you both belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at this."

Dumbledore reached across to Professor McGonagall’s desk, picked up the blood-stained silver sword, and handed it to Harry. Harry and I looked at each other before turning our attention back to the sword. Dully, Harry turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then we saw the name engraved just below the hilt.

 _Godric Gryffindor_        

"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat, Harry. And only a true Gryffindor would know how to use it, Delilah," said grandpa D simply.

For a minute, neither of us spoke. Then Dumbledore pulled open one of the drawers in Professor McGonagall’s desk and took out a quill and a bottle of ink.

"What you both need is some food and sleep. I suggest you two go down to the feast, while I write to Azkaban― we need our gamekeeper back. And I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too," he added thoughtfully. "We’ll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher... Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don’t we?"

Harry got up, took my hand and pulled me to the door. He had just reached for the handle, however, when the door burst open so violently that it bounced back off the wall.

Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering behind his legs, heavily wrapped in bandages, was Dobby.

"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry and I over as he swept into the room. Dobby went scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak, a look of abject terror on his face. I only stared at them in disbelief, Dobby was the Malfoys servant?

The elf was carrying a stained rag with which he was attempting to finish cleaning Mr. Malfoys shoes. Apparently, Mr. Malfoy had set out in a great hurry, for not only were his shoes half-polished, but his usually sleek hair was disheveled. Ignoring the elf bobbing apologetically around his ankles, he fixed his cold eyes upon Dumbledore.  

"So!" he said. "You’ve come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."

"Well, you see, Lucius," said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, "the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They’d heard that Arthur Weasley's daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too... Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn’t agree to suspend me in the first place."

Mr. Malfoy went even paler than usual, but his eyes were still slits of fury.

"So― have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneered. "Have you caught the culprit?"      

"We have," said Dumbledore, with a smile, glancing sideways at me, sending me a secretive wink. I couldn't help but smirk. 

"Well?" said Mr. Malfoy sharply. "Who is it?"

"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore. "But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary."      

He held up the small black book with the large hole through the center, watching Mr. Malfoy closely. I felt Harry squeeze my hand, making me turn to look at him only to find him watching Dobby.

The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry and I, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr. Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist. Realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and trust me, I know how  _that_ actually feels.

"I see..." said Mr. Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore.

"A clever plan," said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr. Malfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry and Delilah here―" Mr. Malfoy shot Harry and I a swift, sharp look. "―and their friend Ron hadn’t discovered this book, why― Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn’t acted of her own free will..."      

Mr. Malfoy said nothing. His face was suddenly masklike.

"And imagine," Dumbledore went on, "what might have happened then... The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and― killing Muggleborns... Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle’s memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise..."      

Mr. Malfoy forced himself to speak.

"Very fortunate," he said stiffly.  

And still, behind his back, Dobby was pointing, first to the diary, then to Lucius Malfoy, then punching himself in the head.

I nudged Harry a little hard on the side. He looked at me then back at Dobby before finally seeming to have understood what the elf and I had been trying to tell him. Harry nodded at Dobby, and Dobby backed into a corner, now twisting his ears in punishment.

"Don’t you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr. Malfoy?" said Harry.

Lucius Malfoy rounded on us.

"How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?" he said.

I glared at the man. "Because you gave it to her," I said. "In Flourish and Blotts. You picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diary inside it, did you not?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Malfoy’s white hands clench and unclench.

"Prove it," he hissed, making Harry slightly pull me back as if to protect me. Well, usually I'd be the one to do that, but in the state I was, I wasn't about to object any protection even if it was from the one I'm supposed to protect.      

"Oh, no one will be able to do that," said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry and I. "Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you..."      

Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, and I distinctly saw his right hand twitch as though he was longing to reach for his wand.

Instead, he turned to his house-elf. "We’re going, Dobby!"

He wrenched open the door and as the elf came hurrying up to him, he kicked him right through it. We could hear Dobby squealing with pain all the way along the corridor. Harry and I stood for a moment, thinking hard. Then it came to me―

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said hurriedly, letting go of my hand and stepping forward. "Can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?" I guess he was thinking along the same lines as I was.

"Certainly, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly. "But you both must hurry. The feast, remember..."

Harry grabbed the diary, took my hand again and we both dashed out of the office. We could hear Dobby’s squeals of pain receding around the corner. Quickly, wondering if this plan could possibly work, Harry took off one of his shoes, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the diary along with my dirty handkerchief. Then we both ran― limped in my case― down the dark corridor.

We caught up with them at the top of the stairs.

"Mr. Malfoy," he gasped, skidding to a halt, "I’ve got something for you―"

And he forced the smelly sock and filthy handkerchief into Lucius Malfoy’s hand.

"What the―"  

Mr. Malfoy ripped the sock and the handkerchief off the diary, threw the, aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry and I. "You’ll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter, and you as your grandparents, Delilah Bl― Hawkins," he said softly, but I didn't miss his error. He was going to call me Delilah Black too. I would have to ask grandpa D about that later. "They were meddlesome fools, too."

He turned to go.

"Come, Dobby. I said, come."

But Dobby didn’t move. He was holding up Harry’s disgusting, slimy sock and my dirty handkerchief, and looking at them as though they were a priceless treasure. 

"Master has given a sock and a handkerchief," said the elf in wonderment. "Master gave them to Dobby."      

"What’s that?" spat Mr. Malfoy. "What did you say?"

"Got a sock and a handkerchief," said Dobby in disbelief. "Master threw them, and Dobby caught them, and Dobby― Dobby is free."

Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf then he lunged at Harry and I.

"You’ve lost me my servant!"      

But Dobby shouted, "You shall not harm Harry Potter or Delilah Hawkins!"

There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward. He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. He got up, his face livid, and pulled out his wand, but Dobby raised a long, threatening finger.

"You shall go now," he said fiercely, pointing down at Mr. Malfoy. "You shall not touch Harry Potter or Deli Hawkins. You shall go now."

Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the pair of them, he swung his cloak around him and hurried out of sight.

"Harry Potter and Deli Hawkins freed Dobby!" said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry and I, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. "Harry Potter and Deli Hawkins set Dobby free!"

"Least we could do, Dobby," said Harry, grinning. "Just promise never to try and save our lives again."

The elf’s adorable brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.

"I’ve just got one question, Dobby," said Harry as Dobby pulled on Harry’s sock and my handkerchief with shaking hands. "You told us all this had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? Well―"  

"It was a clue, sir," said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. "Was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see? Deli understood what Dobby was trying to say, didn't she?"

I smiled and nodded.

"Right," said Harry weakly. "Well, we'd better go. There’s a feast, and our friend Hermione should be awake by now..."

Dobby threw his arms around Harry’s and my middle and hugged us.

"Harry Potter and Deli Hawkins are greater by far than Dobby knew!" he sobbed. "Farewell, Harry Potter! Farewell, Deli Hawkins!" And with a final loud crack, Dobby disappeared.

As we made our way towards the Common room to get ourselves clean before the feast, I felt a tug in the pit of my stomach.

"Er... Harry, I... I am just going to go to the hospital wing really quick... because... I am not feeling well?" I said, though it came out like a question as the tug in the pit of my stomach got stronger till the point where it actually started to hurt.

Harry looked at me, concern clouding his features. "I'll go with yo―"

"No!" Harry gave me a weird look, but I quickly smiled at him. "I will be fine alone. You go ahead and clean yourself, I will meet you, Ron and Hermione at the Great Hall."

He hesitated for a moment before finally nodding, making me sigh in relief. "Alright. But be careful, please," he said, kissing my cheek. I smiled again and nodded before dashing off down the hall.

I don't know why, but I ended up standing in front of the third Herbology Greenhouse where the mandrakes are. Something told me I was not alone... well, not counting the presence of the mandrakes― there was definitely someone else here.

"Hello?" I called out, limping my way around the greenhouse. It was a good thing these little 'houses' were made of glass; I could easily see if someone was trying to hide.

After barely taking five steps, I was thrown onto the greenhouse, the glass breaking under me from the impact. My vision was blurry and I tried to look up, to at least move my head, but I was even weaker now than I had been from my previous fight with the gigantic snake alongside Harry.

The first thing I thought was:  _Yay! Dobby was rewarded and I was... kidnapped? Great_. Just note the damn sarcasm I am starting to use more often.

The second thing I thought about, for some odd reason, was Harry. How I had spent these past two years trying to protect him and everything we've been through together in just that eighth of a decade.  

My last thought was all about hope. For the first time in a long time, I was hoping I would be found and not taken away once again from the freedom I had managed to earn since the age of nine. It had already been a while, but it still hadn't been much. I tasted real freedom when I moved to London. When I started attending Hogwarts... when I peeked at what a real, Christmas was like, last year. My freedom was when I met Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys, and I wasn't ready to be taken away from them... my new family.

I soon stopped thinking altogether, being plunged into darkness, the last I saw being a pair of bright green eyes.

The last thing I heard was, "She was right. From the last time I saw you... I didn't think it... I didn't know her, but now that I see you... you do look like her... but she's not as beautiful as you are... she never will be, Dels."  

Then everything went black.

**Author's Note:**

> **ATTENTION** I DO NOT OWN ANY OF J.K. ROWLING'S ORIGINAL CHARACTERS FROM THE ORIGINAL HARRY POTTER. I ONLY OWN DELILAH, HER FAMILY, THE KIDS FROM THE ORPHANAGE, THE ADAMS, AND SOME OTHERS I MIGHT CREATE FURTHER ON.


End file.
